Mustache Boy
by bridget117
Summary: Emily LaRue is the first female hockey player in the NHL.  Her career begins as a Carolina Hurricane, and then she becomes a Pittsburgh Penguin, where she meets the love of her life, while fighting sexism and making the greatest friends she could have.
1. Chapter 1

I used to play hockey for the Pittsburgh Penguins. Well, I guess I still do, but as of right now, I do not. There is one very good reason why I currently do not, but I'll get to that at a later time. Let me first start at the very beginning. My name is Emily LaRue, and the very, very first thing I would like to tell you is that I was the first female ever to be picked in the NHL draft. My first team was the Carolina Hurricanes. That was where I met my first Staal brother.

"Hey, Em," called my mother from the bottom of the steps. She roused me from my sleep. I was exhausted from the day before, Christmas day. We had eagerly awaited the phone call that I would be accepted into the NHL, which had been my dream for about seven years. I had worked so hard, and I had heard somewhere that the deadline for the phone calls would be on Christmas Eve.

I rolled out of bed and my feet landed on the cold floor. I was dizzy from getting up so fast, and I stumbled into my desk. I made an aggravated sound, but obviously kept going toward the top of the steps.

"Yeah?" I said, yawning deeply.

"I wouldn't be yawning if I were you," she said, holding the phone in her hand toward me.

"Someone wishes the talk to you. I think you'll enjoy the call, if you ask me."

I took the phone from her hand and drowsily pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?" I mumbled groggily into the phone.

"Emily LaRue?" It was a man's voice, and he sounded very happy. I woke up a little more due to my interest as to why he was so excited.

"Yes, sir, that's me."

"Emily, I am pleased to inform you that you have been drafted into the National Hockey League tothe Carolina Hurricanes!"

I about fell flat over. My eyes got wide and I made immediate eye contact with my mother.

"Thank you so much!"

"No, thank you. They love your talent. Can you come down to Raleigh tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? I'll see what I can do. Thank you! Can I have your number to call you back?"

"Yes." He gave me his number.

"And your name, sir?"

"Jim Rutherford."

I hung up the phone and grinned widely at my mother.

"Hey, mom, guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm going to Carolina tomorrow. The 'Canes want me to play for them in the NHL."

For the first time in my life, I screamed like a teenage girl. I nearly tackled my mother in a hug. I was going to be living my dream by playing in the professional leagues!

There was a plane ticket available for tomorrow, and we bought it instantly. I began packing, shoving as many clothes into one suitcase as possible, putting my hockey gear into one duffel bag, and putting all of my toiletries in with it.

I woke up the next morning and my mom and dad, who was more than ecstatic for me, drove me to the airport.

"Now, don't get involved with these boys, Emily. You know how they can be."

"Dad, I'm one of them, now. I'll figure out soon enough how to handle myself."

"Just make sure you don't bring a Flyer, Redwing, or Cap home," he said, teasing.

I huffed at him sarcastically. "But dad," I said, pretending to whine. "It's ok. I don't like any of them, anyway."

"If you run into any trouble," my mother began.

"I'll get my friends to take care of it," I said. "But if it's beyond their control, I'll tell you first. I can't wait until I get to tell you the stories of the locker room and of all of the people we meet. Mom, Dad, I can't believe this is happening to me!" 

We pulled into the airport and went to the departing flights. I got out and pulled out my two bags.

My mom and dad were waiting by the sidewalk as I rolled my heavy suitcase toward them. I set it down against the sidewalk and dropped my duffel right next to it.

Mom was crying. Dad was grinning ear to ear with tears pricking his eyes.

"Hey," I said, my voice cracking. I couldn't believe it. I was so excited and I was crying right in front of my parents. "I'll be back before you know it. I checked. The 'Canes' next game is against Pittsburgh. I'll come and see you if I can."

"OK," said my mom quietly. I hugged and kissed her, and did the same to my dad.

"I'll see you soon!" I said, picking up my bags and heading toward the doors to the airport. They waved and got back into the car quickly so I didn't see them sobbing. They loved me, and I was thankful for that. I had my life to live now, and it was going to be spent doing what I loved.

I checked my bags and was waiting on the plane, now. Only a few people recognized me from the media pictures and asked me for autographs. I was surprised how encouraging they were for me. It lifted me up to a higher level where I felt like I was ready to take on whatever the league and its players were going to throw at me.

As soon as I arrived in Raleigh, I was met by a tall blond who was surrounded by a few people, but seemed to be looking only for me. He grinned when he first set eyes on me, and my mouth fell open in an excited grin.

"Eric Staal," I said, half-running to meet him. "I can't believe I'm actually meeting you." He opened up his arms to catch me in a hug.

"Emily LaRue. This really is a pleasure. I'm glad I could come pick you up." In my mind, I was relieved that he was there, but I also realized how cute he was. No wonder he was already married with children. My excitement radiated off my body.

He signed some autographs, and some people even asked for mine, and we headed to pick up my bags and to leave the airport.

"The team has already arranged for a place for you to stay until you get your bearings with you. I hope you like it."

He grabbed my bags and I saw how his muscles flexed under the weight.

"You travel light," he commented. "For a girl."

I smacked his arm lightly. "You don't get to complain. I didn't bring half as much as I wanted to."

"I'm not carrying anything when we travel," he said. He headed out to the car and threw my stuff in the back. His car, obviously, was really nice. I grinned to myself. I was getting driven to my own person apartment by the captain of the hockey team that I was currently part of. This is beyond surreal.

"How did you get used to this?" I asked him.

"What?" He turned to look at me as he pulled onto the highway.

"All of this fame. When did you actually calm down from the excitement of it all?" I relaxed back into the leather seat. "And the girls? What about all of those people throwing themselves at you?"

"Well, in regard to the fame, you live in it for a certain amount of time and it just becomes part of you. You just realize that you can do almost literally anything you want. It's a pretty amazing feeling to have that much power over your life. Your job dictates what time you have to yourself and where you live, of course, but the people love you. I haven't really met anyone who blatantly disliked me or my brothers, but I think that may be a special case because we are brothers. I wound anticipate that the people ho don't understand it will not like you too terribly much, but you just remember that in the long run, the minimum amount of people that like you are your teammates and the team's fans because that's how it runs in the NHL. You know that. You're loyal to your team until the end. Once you've picked one, you're hooked forever.

"As for the girls, and in your case. boys, you just be polite. If someone tries to touch you, ask them to stop, and if that doesn't work, run away. You'll probably out run them, anyway, and if they're respectful at all, they'll make signs or something. Sometimes, you can ignore them, but if they ask for an autograph or something, just be polite. I would never suggest touching them, like shoving them off you. They could sue. That would be ridiculous, but people can be strange in these days. Thankfully, people have backed off because I'm married, but there are still a few that are a little crazy." He chuckled to lighten the mood.

"Thanks," I said. He turned off the highway and I took in Raleigh in silence. It was a beautiful city. I was going to like it here.


	2. Chapter 2

iAuthor's Note: I have already written about 10 chapters of this which I will be posting on here. This is the first story I have posted on , so be kind. There /iwilli be sex, shenanigans, and so far, in my mind, about six OC's. They should all be pretty cool people (even though I think one is rather dull, but she has what I hope to be a very interesting partner.

Anyway, thanks for reading. I really like talking to people/getting feedback, so if you'd be so kind...;)

On with the story!/i

"Emily," said Manager Jim Rutherford, "Welcome to the team. I'm sure Phil will get you accustomed to the rules of the league and such, but..." As he went on, I began to look around the long hall we were walking through toward the locker room. There were pictures of old teams and previous successful playoff series. As my eyes moved back to what was in front of me, I realized that I had almost walked into the door of our destination. My nerves quivered. I was excited and nervous and scared all at the same time.

"Please, don't be afraid to let me or Coach know that you're uncomfortable with any sort of situation." 

"With all due respect, I'm in the NHL, Mr. Rutherford. I don't expect to get any special treatment."

He nodded silently and pushed the door of the locker room open. "Good luck," he said, and closed the door behind him.

Inside, it was pitch dark, and I was left alone (at least as far as I knew).

"Shit, Eric, hurry up!" Came a voice that was apparently toward the back of the room.

I tried to make my eyes adjust to the darkness, but there were literally no lights on at all. I was blinded by a cellphone being thrust in my face by someone, but before I could adjust to that, the light flicked on and almost prophetically, the first person I laid eyes on from the entire team was their six-foot-four, two hundred-five pound captain. He stood like a blond statue and I could have sword he may as well have been wearing a toga and had some olive branches on his head. Instead, he was wearing his warm-ups and was staring profoundly at me.

"Emily LaRue," He bowed slightly and with the rest of his team, formed a circle, which included me within it. Everyone began to introduce themselves and they had each formed a question to ask me. Most of it was about my personal life, some of it was about the realization that I would be playing with only men for the next few years, and some of it was about the team. I managed to answer each question without much of a hesitation, though I had to admit was wasn't exactly ready for it.

The entire team went out ahead of me to get working on their practice. I quickly got changed and headed out onto the ice. I did a few laps and as I went around, I watched the guys move. They responded to each other so well that I was thankful for their talent.

I was called over and almost instantly, they flicked the puck to me. I bobbled it on my stick for a while before looking toward Cam Ward, who was staring intently at the puck on my stick. I faked right and shot to the left, and he caught it with ease.

"Don't wait, kiddo," said Eric as he grabbed the rebound and popped it into the back of the net. He jostled my helmet and grabbed another puck, flicked it to Jamie McBain and McBain threw it to me, me to Ruutu, and Ruutu beat Ward.

We practiced some sprints, scrimmaged, and continued on with the practice. Unnecessarily, Coach Phil introduced me to the team and called the practice quits. We all headed back to the locker room and began to change. I retreated to the deep recesses of the locker room peeled my gear off. I took a deep breath as my chest was liberated from the tightness of the pads. I wrapped a towel around myself and headed to the showers, shampoo, soap, and clothes in hand. I found the shower that was the farthest away from everyone, and hopped in, and turned on the hot water.

The liquid, as always, felt amazing on my aching muscles. I sighed quietly and closed my eyes, pulling my hair back with my hands. I stretched, clasping my hands firmly behind my head. I lathered up and scrubbed the sweat and grossness off my skin. I took as little time as possible and shut off the water. I didn't dare open the curtain as I dried myself off. I heard water going a few showers away and dried myself off as quickly as possible.

I pulled my clothes on (a pair of dark jeans and a brown shirt), and pulled my hair up into a bun. I returned to my locker and applied deodorant and a body mist. I may be a hockey player, but I wasn't about to smell bad in front of a bunch of sweaty, good-looking hockey players. I stuffed my uniform and pads into my duffel and hoisted it over to my official locker.

Eric Staal was lacing up his shoes and stood right next to me. I looked down at him and he finished tying his shoes. He looked up at me, and for a moment I considered his blond hair a halo.

"Hey," he said, quietly. "Do you want to come out with me and some of the other guys to get a drink or something? Maybe some food? You know, guy-girl stuff."

I stared at him, baffled. What was my response to that supposed to be? If I said yes, more than the media would have a field day. It may not be a date, exactly, but the new girl in the National Hockey League going out to dinner and a snuggle with the captain of her team two days before she plays the very first hockey game played by a woman in the history of the sport may not bode well for the players, Eric's family (including his youngest brother in juniors and two others in the pros), or especially for Phil and Jim. Besides that, he was a full five years older than me. The other half of me said 'what the hell. It's not like you're getting married tomorrow.' I decided to go with that rationale. If the media wanted to label me as a tramp, let them, because the people that really know me know that I would never sleep around like that, or sleep around at all for that matter.

"Sure," I said. "What time?"

"How about," I could see the gears in that lovely blond head working, "Right now? It's getting dark already, and I'm sure you haven't really been around town that much."

"Now? Uh...sure."

To be honest, this was kind of cute. I wasn't quite sure how he knew it was dark outside, since there were no things around indicating as much, but whatever. I didn't really need anything, anyway, especially since he asked me out, not the other way around.

"Can I drive you?"

"As long as you promise to put me back where you found me, no scratches."

He honest-to-God smiled. "I can't promise that last part, but I will put you back on your shelf after this town dusts you off a bit." He led the way out to his car and opened the door for me to get on the passenger's side.

While we pause a moment for the drive to the cafe, let me tell you a little bit about myself. My mother was really against me playing hockey. I started when I was fifteen, and literally practiced my butt off to be where I am today. A lot of it was practice, and I have to admit the rest was God-given talent. Ironically enough, I grew up in the great city of Pittsburgh, and my dream that actually got me started at hockey in the first place was the Pittsburgh Penguins. I went to Mario's last game, and Sid's first. I had the biggest crush on him when I was younger, and now that I'm older, I have to laugh at myself.

Lemieux was obviously my idol. I hate Ovechkin with a passion because he dares to rival my Crosby, but knowing him, he'd probably check me half-way to the moon. I could only hope to hit him right back. When I was told that I had been put into the NHL draft, I was really excited, but I had worked hard and was one of the most competitive people I knew. To put it lightly, people hated playing boardgames around me.

I have strawberry blond hair and green-ish blue eyes, low cheekbones, and a fuller mouth. I'm five-eight and approximately one hundred seventy pounds of pure muscle, and I'm not just saying that. I've been muscular since my mom made me do gymnastics when I was five. Now, seventeen years later, I'm basically doing the opposite sport.

Anyway, at this point, we have now reached the cafe. It is here where I get introduced to a person who will change my life forever, and I was only to be playing him in a few days.

Eric held the door for me and to be honest, I was surprised. He probably did this for his wife, too. Oh, what a controversy this was going to stir up! I almost wanted to back down from it, but I realized I wasn't really the type. If people had stuff to say to me, they could go ahead and say it.

Most of the people in the cafe gaped at us. Eric was in the middle of speaking with the host when my phone beeped, indicating a new text message. I pulled my Blackberry out and looked at the number. I recognized the Pittsburgh area code, but not the number. Maybe my dad got a new number and he was messaging it to me.

iWelcome to fame,/i it read.

Instantly I texted back, ithanks, dad/i

The host sat us and once again, my phone beeped. Eric looked down at it while I pulled it out of my pocket once more and set it on the table. I shoved the phone toward him and he looked at it calmly.

"Do you recognize this number?" I asked. Eric grinned.

"Maybe."

"You're a terrible lier."

"Open it and see what it says," he said. In the same breath he ordered us some coffee and cookies. I hit "View Now" and read the text quickly.

iYou wish-Jordan./i

I looked back up at Eric. "Jordan-wait. You-" My eyes went wide with the realization. How stupid I must seem! "How did your brother get my number?"

Eric shrugged, and this time, I believed him. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

I complied with his suggestion and while I waited for a response, we sipped our coffee and ate our cookies.

Finally, it came.

iI have my methods. cant wait to see you play on thurs. have a nice trip./i

"Is he always this impudent?"

"Usually more," Eric smirked.

Making a long story short, we finished our coffees and Eric took me around town. I was, even two days away from the game, getting nervous for battling the Pens.

Eric and I became good friends from the start. He warned me often about Jordan and his aggressive style of play, and I told him I knew about it, due to the fact that I'd seen him play before. Eric would just nod silently and we'd continue on with our day.

Early Thursday morning, we arrived in Pittsburgh. We checked in to the William Penn (one that I had only entered to escape the throng of the cold every so often), and dropped our stuff, heading off to practice in my domain, the Consol Energy Center.

I had to admit it: I had an emotional connection with this place. I remembered the day we got the Stanley Cup and how excited the entire city of Pittsburgh was. I attended the first game in this arena. I had witness all sorts of stuff that may one day be put into the history books. Due to my late admittance after the trail round on for the 'Canes, I was there when Sid came back.

And now, I was playing on the very ice that I had dreamed of since I was fifteen years old and actually really got into the game.

Embarrassingly enough, I had a moment.

Naturally, Eric was the first to suffocate me with a hug. I turned to his chest and his hug tightened.

i"Tsk, tsk, tsk,"/i came a voice from behind him.

"Asshole," said Eric instantly, not even letting me go.

"You do know he's married, right?" I turned around and saw a more muscular version of the blond god that stood behind me. I knew instantly who it was once I had my eye on him. I began to shiver, which is what I do when I get extremely nervous, excited, or shell-shocked. I was currently all of the above.

"Emily LaRue, meet my ever-charming brother, Mr. Jordan Staal." Our eyes met. My soul gently cried to itself as it wore away and if you had an object narrow enough, you could poke that deep, fuzzy feeling that is felt when people theoretically fall in love. Now, I wasn't thinking that far into it at the time, but as our hands met in a handshake, I managed to find myself diving deeper and deeper into those sea-green eyes. Must I be so cliche?

I quickly resurfaced from my melodrama and gave him a massive shit-eating grin. I felt like a dork, meeting the very person that was my personal favorite and the very man that I emulated from age fifteen to the current age of twenty-two. Needless to say, I was a big fan.

"Hey, Jordy."

"Wonder Woman."

"I wouldn't go that far, yet."

Keeping calm was almost impossible, considering the fact that I was still locking hands with my favorite person in the entire NHL.

"You want to not crush my hand, please?" His eyebrows were raised and I found myself blushing deeply.

"Sorry."

"See you tonight, Wonder Woman."

"See you." I headed back toward the locker room.

When I checked behind my shoulder, the Staal brothers were conversing, but I expected nothing out of it.


	3. Chapter 3

The night finally came. It was a historic day in the world, if not in hockey. Phil announced the lines. Eric would be on the first, and I would play on the second line with Sutter. Peters would be between the pipes, and Phil looked around the room.

"Alright, gentleman," he gave me an appreciative nod. "Do what you have to do tonight. Let's get this win."

We all cheered and stood to get in our line. I clenched my stick nervously and popped some tums before I heard the crowd get hushed.

"And now, Pittsburgh welcomes, from Raleigh, the Carolina Hurricanes!" iThat voice./i I shuddered. That was me. This was imy/i team. I heard an appreciative cheer from the crowd.

A few tears pricked my eyes. All of it felt like a dream to me. I was playing with the best. I had to be the best. I wiped the tears away and bowed my head, reciting the words that I had been praying since I joined my high school's team:

_I thank you, O God, for giving me a body  
>which is specially fit and strong, and for<br>making me able to use it well._

_In my training, help me never to shirk the  
>discipline which I know that I need and that I<br>ought to accept._

_In my leisure and in my pleasure, help me  
>never to allow myself any indulgence which<br>would make me less fit than I ought to be._

_When I compete with others, help me, win or lose,  
>to play fair. When I win, keep me from<br>boasting. When I lose, keep me from making excuses.  
>And help me always with good will to congratulate a<br>better player who beat me._

_Help me so to live that I will always have a healthy  
>body and a healthy mind<em>

_This I ask for your love's  
>sake.<em>

_Amen_

I quickly crossed myself as the line began. I jumped nervously on my skates and ran out with the rest of the team. When the announcer said my name, I watched the crowd stand and scream and applaud. I raised my stick to them and grabbed a puck, skating around the rest of my team. I glanced over at our goalie. He was turned the other way, reaching for a shot. I flicked my puck his way and it slid right between his pads. I grinned, and my eyes immediately found Eric's. He grinned widely at me.

The ref blew the whistle and we lined up for the national anthem. My voice was in my throat, or else I would have sung along. I smacked my stick against the ice like the rest of the guys and we skated our respective ways to get instructions. Eric would be taking the first face-off. I felt my whole body shake and shiver with the deepest amount of feeling I've ever possessed, even more than when I was called for the draft.

The refs blew their whistles to have their first lines line up, and I sat down on the bench, watching Eric skate away from me. He bent over the center line and eyed up Malkin, who was facing off against him.

The puck dropped.

I had been in tons of hockey games. I had watched bunches of them in the Consol Energy Center, but nothing was as fast as witnessing professional hockey right there on the bench as you watched your friends skate around and yell at each other and all of your senses sharpen at once when someone got close to the goal or slammed into the boards. Eventually, the massive grin fell from my face and was replaced with pure adrenaline. I was totally absorbed in the new experience.

"Hey, LaRue?" Came Phil's voice. I jumped about three feet in the air, startled. "Easy there," he said relatively quietly.

"Sorry. What's up?"

"Are you ready to go out there?"

I got the most massive grin I've ever had on my face and I nodded. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Alright-y, then." A few very short moments passed. Then, it was my time. "First line, back here! Go, second!"

It was a mad scramble over the boards and onto the ice, or to the bench. I powered out of there like a canon ball. I immediately found the puck and was blitzing down to the Penguin's end. I flicked it back to Sutter, to Nodl, me, and then came the nerves part. I was swarmed by a sea of black. Staal (Jordan), Orpik, and Niskanen were shoving their sticks every which way to take the puck from me. I rammed into Jordan and took a shot on goal. It was easily deflected by Fleury and TK picked it up. I followed Jordan down the ice and stood in front of him. Kennedy tried to hit up Peters, but he made a pad save and deflected it to the right side.

Staal moved to get the puck and I went right after him. He had just turned around when I slammed into him and got the puck from him. I skated down the ice, aware of everyone around me. Nodl was open, so I flicked it to him. He took a quick shot that pinged off the pipes and into Fleury's paw.

The ref's blew the whistle and we lined up for a face-off. I took it against Tyler Kennedy. We stared at each other for a second before the ref bent over to drop the puck. Tyler neatly beat me to the puck and moved it over to Dupius, who made a move toward center ice. McBain caught him unaware and stripped him of the puck, hammering down the left side. He flicked it my way and I took my hardest slap-shot onto it, but just missed the goal. Fleury made a dive for it, and Sutter tried to stuff it in, but Orpik managed to get it out of there.

The third line hopped on and we were allowed a break. I sat down, and only then did I realize I was panting. The fans sitting behind us were slapping on the glass. I turned around and they smiled at me, putting a sign up to the glass. While they wore Penguins gear, the sign said "We believe in Wonder Woman #32 Go LaRue!" The thirty-two was in a Superman logo. I smiled and gave them a thumbs up and mouthed "Thank you."

Just as I turned around, we scored. I cheered and fist-bumped with the rest of the guys.

I went on for another shift in a few minutes, but nothing came for it. Toward the end, I realized the guys were feeding me the puck and were yelling at me to shoot. They wanted me to get a point; if not a goal, then an assist.

The buzzer rang for the end of the first period. We headed back to the locker room for a break. The energy was pretty high, and it seemed like the break went too fast. In no time, we were back on the ice, ready to go.

Something inside of me was working like a demon. After a few minutes, I was comfortable around all of these superstars. I felt like I could read them. I knew where they were going and it was almost as if I knew who would be getting the puck next, maybe even before the person who was going to give it to them got it himself. I felt super-human. I intercepted what should have been Malkin's puck, (wait, that was Evgeni Malkin?) and skated right past him and down the ice, all by myself. The players behind me were racing after me. I was even beating Despres and Michalek, the Pen's D-men. It was me and the man that I had come to love for the longest time. I watched his eyes as I came in closer and closer. I would take this short-handed, maybe a nice wrist-yes. Right now, he's going right in front of me. His reflexes are fast enough to go the other way. Better head down.

A snap of the wrist was all it took.

It felt like the moment was going in slow motion. Fleury's pads slapped together, but I saw the little black disk already in the back of the net.

All of a sudden, a swarm of people came at me. Half of them were half-dejected Penguins, but the rest of them were my very own friends and teammates. I was smothered with hugs. I looked up at the crowd, tears in my eyes. The grin on my face could have lit the entire arena no problem. People were tugging at my braids, which were a tradition of mine even when I just began watching hockey. During the playoffs when the Penguins had last won the cup, I had my hair braided on the day their series started. I kept it from there, figuring it was good luck. I now realize that my hair style has nothing to do with the Penguins, but that was fine.

I had just tied the game at 1-1 only a few minutes into the second period.

Unfortunately, the Pens responded, and quickly. Before anyone knew it, it was 3-1 Pens. It stayed that way as we ended the second period for another intermission.

When I entered the locker room for a second time, I was swamped once more. Eric planted a kiss into my sweaty, gross hair, and everyone was grinning ear to ear. I was so happy and excited. I tried to control some of my energy within the next twenty minutes, and by the time we returned to the ice, hopefully to rally, I was one hundred percent focused.

There was about five minutes left in the game now, and Pittsburgh was up 4-1. It would be nearly impossible for us to win, but I wasn't out of gas, yet. I skated right past Jordan Staal and his brother, Eric, and straight up to Malkin. Jordan was out due to his defensive ability to ensure that his brother would not improve his chance of scoring.

The only problem with a defensive player is that he is, well, defensive.

I checked Geno. _ Hard_. It was a clean hit, but he fell flat on his butt and lost the puck entirely. Eric picked it up and began skating up toward Fleury, and that was when I felt the tug at my jersey.

I turned around and my eyes met the un-seeing ones of Jordan Staal. His gloves were off and I only had enough time to take mine off, too before he grabbed my shoulders and tried to tear me to the ground. I shoved him back and he punched me. Alright. So this was how he was going to play it. I took off my helmet and threw it to the ice. He removed his, too, and I punched him back firmly with my left hand. Most people, including Jordan, did not know that I was left-handed. He retaliated nicely, hitting me on the cheekbone. It took me a moment to come back with that one, but he was on a roll. He punched me again and again in the temple until I collapsed on the ice, bleeding and exhausted. The refs pulled me up and Eric was the first to help me off the ice, a trail of blood showing my path. My nose was bleeding, but I felt no pain because of it. It was probably due to the adrenaline and simulated pain on my cheek and temple, which was throbbing.

I turned back and looked at Jordan, who was looking after me. He was out of sight when I turned the corner to go to the locker room. Ice and towels were waiting for me. They had an ImPACT test waiting for me, which I passed with flying colors. I assured them that the pain in my head was from bare knuckles and a God-knows-how-many-pound fist flying at my face. My brain wasn't swelling, or anything. They just nodded stubbornly and let me ice my cheekbone and temple. I asked them if I should be going back soon, to which they replied that I would be out for at least for the rest of the game.

"Can I take a shower?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Did you bring a 'Canes shirt? The media will probably want to ask you some questions."

"Yes, I think I have a spare one. If not, they can get stunk out."

The doctors chuckled at my retreating back.

As always, the shower felt divine. As the water steamed off my skin, the pressure from the game did, too. I didn't bother thinking about my goal or the fact that we were going to loose, which was confirmed by the massive cheer that came from down the hall, and the steady thump of skates that ensued a few moments later.

I heard Eric call from down the hall of showers. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. How's Jordan?"

"I talked some sense into him. He's coming to apologize."

"Why?" I yelled back, shutting off the water. The air felt cold against my skin.

"He hit a girl."

"I'm going to have to talk to him. He shouldn't feel that way."

"Huh?"

"I'll tell you when I'm done talking to your little brother." I dried off and put on my 'Canes shirt and red sweatpants. I didn't care what the fashion police said. I had just gotten through my first NHL game, scored my first goal and simultaneous point, and gotten into a fight with one of the biggest hockey stars in the division. I think that constituted as a pretty good way to spend an evening.

I had let my hair down and it was dripping onto my shirt. I shook my head, but that hurt like hell. When I had gotten back to the rest of the team, they managed to look dejected and excited at the same time.

"Hey, it's alright, guys. We didn't play as well as we should have, but we still did alright." They looked up at me and tried a half-smile that died at each of their eyes. I sighed. Eric was off somewhere getting interviewed.

"Emily LaRue!" Called the reporters. I sighed and found a bench to sit down at.

"What did you think of your first game in the NHL?"

This was going to be horrible. I remembered watching interviews, especially with hockey stars. It seemed like they were being asked the same questions all the time. "Well," I began, "naturally I wanted to win, but I think it was pretty great that the first game I ever played was against my hometown team. I mean, I grew up with these guys, so it was almost like coming to a team that I knew already. I knew who I needed to watch out for and even some of the weaknesses of some of the players. All in all, it was really great."

"What do you think of being the first female in the NHL?"

"I think being the first woman in not only the NHL, but in wide-spread professional sports, is a really big deal. Now, if such a thing as the WNHL existed, I don't think this would be as big of a deal, obviously. But I don't think many people would be able to name, for example, five WNBA teams. Women's sports aren't that popular. In coming to the NHL, obviously the coaches and mangers think I'm good enough to make it in the league, and I'm very grateful for that."

"As for the fight with Jordan Staal, did you expect it? What did you think of him beating up on a rookie female such as yourself?"

"I think it comes with the territory. You know, I signed up for this stuff. I expected, within health limitations, of course, to be treated just like everyone else. If that means getting in fights, fine. If that means disallowing goals, I'm all for it. Sure, most of these guys are bigger and stronger than I am, but I guess today I just reacted fast enough to make something from what I worked hard to get."

"Thank you. Good luck with the rest of the season."

"Thank you."

Phew. I had a feeling there would be a lot more of those to come.

A few minutes later, as everyone was leaving and I was soaking up the atmosphere of the place, I heard footsteps in the corridor. I knew exactly who it had to be. Jordan was listening to his big brother. I sighed.

Well, it turned out that I was only 1/23 correct. The entire Penguin team (that wasn't on IR) was parading through the locker room.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Wonder Woman," said the alternate Evgeni Malkin. I hated to be the girly type, but his accent was iadorable/i in person.

"Hey Geno," I smiled. It hurt a little to do that, so it wasn't a full-blown grin. Behind the mass of black shirts was a little bit of red. One of my other very good friends, Drayson Bowman, was sitting on the bench opposite me and eyeing up the Penguins heavily, wondering what they were going to do to me. He peeked between James Neal's legs and gave me a look that asked me if I needed him to stay. I shook my head. "Hey, guys."

"We just wanted to meet the first lady on civil terms," said Jordan. "Maybe throw a little celebration."

I fought off the urge to blush. Nealer's sea-blue eyes were studying me. Flower had an excited grin on his face, and Jordan was smirking vehemently.

"I'm just another hockey player, guys. And that goes for you, too, Gronk."

"Where are you from?" Asked Despres. I smiled at him.

"I was born and raised here, in Pittsburgh. I've been a real fan since I was fifteen, but being born here makes you automatically a die-hard fan of the Steelers, Penguins, and Pirates. To be honest, this right here is very exciting for me."

"Well," said Flower, "hopefully we live up to your standard."

"Let's go get something to eat," said Joe Vitale.

They all moved out of the locker room. At some point during the conversation, Drayson had snuck out of there. Jordan was the last one to leave after me.

"Hey," he said, gently grabbing my arm. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Like I said, I'm just another hockey player. Who's to say I can't get in fights like the rest of you?"

"You could get hurt."

"Jordan," I said, almost interrupting. "It's hockey. You're not playing it right if you don't get some bumps and bruises somewhere along the line."

"I made you bleed," he said painfully.

"So?" I didn't see why he had to feel so guilty about it. It was only a couple of bruises. As far as I could tell, I didn't have a concussion, so there was nothing to worry about. "You bled, Tanger bled. It happens."

"But it hurts."

"Of course it does. Do you think I would have worked my ass off if it meant that I would get a pillow strapped around me so that mommy's little girl's face didn't get beaten to a pulp every-so-often?"

"But it was your fist game. I didn't want you to-" 

"I understand that, but I've seen the games before. Fights don't happen all the time. C'mon. I'm hungry." I turned around and headed outside. It was snowing lightly.

"Did you want to go to the 'Canes?" He asked. I sighed and turned around to look at him. The parking lot was deserted except for our cars and the vehicles of some of the maintenance staff.

"Off the record, no. I wanted to come here. I prayed every single night that if I got in, I would go here. I guess I got in, and beggars can't be choosers." The snow was falling onto my half-dried hair. It was dusting Jordan's. Only now did I notice the shiner that was on his eye.

"Did I give that to you?" I pointed at his face. He gingerly touched it, flinching.

"Ouch," he said, quietly. "I guess so. I didn't want to bring it up. Hurts." He offered me a small smile. "Do you want to just go out and get something? You know, without the guys."

"You and your brother are the exact same."

"I'd like to think of myself as more charming, but I guess that's your prerogative." He was blushing. If I thought his brother was a god, Jordan was Zeus. He had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen, and his hair was even more fluffy than his brother's. He was built like a tree, totally solid.

"I'm not so sure, yet," I said, shaking my head. Eric was a hard one to beat. I was happy that the temptation of his bachelor life was gone due to his wonderful wife and kids. "Where do you want to go?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

I frowned, annoyed that he wasn't going to tell me. "Just make sure you take me back here so I can go back to the hotel."

He nodded. "Sounds good. Hop in." We walked over to his car. Our shoes made tracks in the snow. My headache was subsiding.

When we were buckled in, Jordan turned the ignition and put on some music. It was just low enough that we could talk over it if the need presented itself.

We drove through the familiar streets in silence. When we stopped, I knew exactly where we were. We were a few blocks away from my elementary school. For eight years of my life, I drove down this road. I knew the house that we stopped at. I always wondered who lived there when I was younger. I imagined it must have been Queen Elizabeth II's summer home when she came to Pittsburgh. That idea was dashed, so I just figured it would be a corporate junkie's pad. The athletes did not live among the common folk. That much was known to me.

"Is this..."

"Welcome to the Staal residence." Jordan grinned and took the keys from the ignition. He was out of the car and headed up to his house. This was too weird.

I got out and followed him.

"You live here," I said, dumbly.

"Yep. Home sweet home."

"I passed this place every single day when I was younger, back when I was in elementary school. I

thought the Queen lived here, or something."

"Nope. Just an old couple. It was empty for a couple of years." He unlocked the oak doors and pushed them open. Inside, it was quite modern. When you walked in, there was a small hallway with a welcome mat where Jordan kicked off his shoes. He took my coat and hung it up in the closet that was on the right side as you walked in. On the left in the middle of the wall was a table with a small pile of mail, flowers, and a huge mirror.

The hallway opened up into the living room. The brownish-red couch faced a huge flat-screen TV. There was a glass coffee table in front of the davenport. There was an empty pizza box and bottle of beer on top of it, as well as some spare change. On the hardwood floor was a red-themed oriental rug.

To the left was the dining room. It was small, with a replica of the rug under a distressed dining room table with a laundry basket and dirty clothes hanging out of it. The chairs were hardwood and had greening copper lion feet on them. Jordan went into the adjoining kitchen. It was green and with a brown granite. There was an island with black wood and cabinets at the bottom of it, and a sink was on the kitchen side of it. Directly behind the island and sink was a stove with a hood and an oven. Flanking that were two sets of counter tops, a microwave on the right and refrigerator on the left. Above that were cabinets, and on top of the cabinets was a substantial amount of alcohol.

"Nice."

"Thank you. I picked it out myself." He moved to the other side of the island and leaned over it.

"What are you hungry for?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'm not that bad of a cook." He grinned at me. "I can heat up pizza just fine."

"Sure. We can go with that." I leaned against the island as soon as he got up to go to the freezer, which was at the bottom of the refrigerator.

"Supreme?"

"Why not?"

He pulled out a cookie sheet and slid the pizza on. He turned on the oven and shoved it in. He turned around, looking completely satisfied with himself.

"I legitimately make an amazing pizza. Have you ever been to Chicago?" The excitement was radiating off his face. He looked like a little kid.

"No."

"Oh!" He tilted his head back and groaned. "You will. And you need to get some of the Chicago-style pizza. No one makes it quite like that. It's so impossibly good." He pushed himself up and sat down on the counter.

"Hey," he said, jumping right back off. "I put the game on DVR. Do you want to see it?"

I tensed, feeling nervous again. "Sure."

He grabbed my hand-

Wait! Pause! It hurt. The feeling of our flesh touching was painful. His skin so blatantly and energetically on mine re-birthed the feelings that I had felt when we first shook hands. Mind, those feelings had been dashed when he was smashing my face in, but right there, at that moment, I felt like all of the oxygen in my system was gone. This was more of a high than when I got the goal. Sorry for the interruption. We'll continue, now, with the story.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the couch. We sat right next to each other as Jordan found the game and put it on for us to watch.

"I'm sorry we beat you."

"I'm happy you won. Of course, I want my team to win, but I like you guys." Something inside me

wanted to snuggle closer to him, but I didn't dare. However, I felt him grow closer to me.

"You played really well, LaRue." A beat passed as he hit play. "Hey. LaRue. You know what that sounds like?"

I thought for a moment, drawing a blank.

"LaRue. Lemieux."

"What? I'm not even close to that-" 

"Not yet, anyway. You were amazing. You're only going to get better. You're going to be amazing, and that's not just for female hockey players. I'd like to see you play with Sid."

"Sid?"

"Yeah. I'll be looking for updates on the 'Canes-Caps game. I personally hope you kick Ovechkin's ass."

I grinned at him. "I'm sure you do."

The cameras were focusing on my face and I was wearing a grin bigger than Miss America.

"Wow. You were really excited," he said, moving his arm around the back of the chair. I was aware of its presence, even though he wasn't touching me. I pressed myself deeper into the cushions.

"Weren't you?"

"I didn't look like I was-"

"You were what?"

"You look like you just got married, or something." He was blushing again.

"I did," I replied easily. "Hockey requires a lot of commitment." He laughed, fast forwarding to the second period. There I was. I grinned, remembering what was going through my head at that point.

I stopped watching myself and listened to the announcers and the crowd. They were all going crazy. They were cheering for me, and to them, I was on the wrong team.

"They're cheering for me."

"We all were," he said quietly. I looked over at him and he was staring at me. Actually, it wasn't just me. His beautiful eyes were moving from my eyes to my lips. Every sense sharpened as I watched the muscles in his neck tense. I felt myself stay totally stationary, unsure whether or not to back away or meet him. Both of them I wanted to do, so I did nothing.

Almost on cue, when Jordan was about an inch away from my lips, the buzzer rang for the pizza.

"Seriously?" He grumbled. I stood up, his long form making the strides to take the pizza out of the oven and cut it.

"Hey Jordan?" I called casually as he brought the food back onto the coffee table.

"Yeah?" He looked sheepish, which I thought was kind of uncharacteristic.

"How am I supposed to know you're not going to use me?"

"You've come this far. You don't deserve that." He sat down next to me and began to eat his pizza. I reached for a slice and settled back down on the couch.

Eventually, we got to our fight. As I watched myself turn around, I thought to myself that I was never allowed to look that paranoid ever again.

"You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I think for a moment I thought it was your brother."

"I should fast-forward." He reached for the remote. I put my hand on top of his, not tearing my eyes from the screen.

"No. I want to see this. It's so different." I watched him pound my head in, flinching. I touched the tender spot on my head and sighed. We watched in silence as I fell to the ice and Eric shot Jordan a death glare. I watched the trail of blood on the ice and the ice crew come out and clean it out. There were come boos coming from the crowd.

"They booed you," I said quietly.

"I shouldn't have fought you. It wasn't fair."

"Look at you. Your shoulders sagged."

"I felt guilty." His hands remained in his lap. We watched the game in silence for the rest of the game. We skipped the interviews, and I got up to put my plate in the sink. Jordan followed me and reached around me to put his plate in.

"Can you take me back, now?" I asked him quietly.

"Sure."

We went out of the house and he took me back to the Consol Energy Center. He walked me over to my car.

"Shit!" I cursed.

"What's up?" He asked.

"I forgot my stuff inside." I made a move to the doors.

"It's locked, isn't it? It's like, one AM!"

"I have a key and can turn off the security code." He held up a key and we both ran for the visitor's entrance. He waited outside while I ran and got my stuff.

"You're good to go?" He asked me as I reappeared. The streetlight cast a light on him that made him look like an impossibly hot angel. The snow was falling faster, and it was embedding itself in his hair so that it was almost entirely white.

"Yes. Thank you so much."

"Any time," he said. He offered to take my bag, but I refused him, hoisting it over my shoulder. We walked through the parking lot and back to my car. I unlocked it and threw my stuff in the back seat. I shut the door and turned around to Jordan.

"Thank you for the great night, Mr. Staal." I turned around and moved to the other side of the car to get into the driver's side.

I felt a body being pressed up against me.

"Hey," he said as I turned around. "I'm sorry for the back check, but-" He stopped mid-sentence, and I wasn't sure what he was going to say next. There was conflict behind those eyes. I suddenly became aware of how amazing he smelled. It was a musky, heated scent that seemed as if it should be reserved for the bedroom.

Oh, God. Did I just think that?

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair around my ear, his finger caressing my face. The tips of his coarse fingers brushed against me lighter than butterfly wings, and it sent a solid shiver down my spine. Then, he dove in, capturing my lips with his.

I stiffened so much it hurt. I inhaled quickly through my nose, feeling his lips against mine and trying to figure out at the same time what I was feeling. As soon as he released, I took another deep breath, and I realized my fingertips were pressed firmly against his chest.

"Good-night," he said before I could even do anything.

"Good-night," I replied, dumbfounded, a lump of pure emotion catching my voice.

I watched him walk around to his vehicle and not once did he turn to look at me. I got in my car and pulled away, turning on the radio to drown out my over-analyzing mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Me, again! :) I don't own Supersonic's Closing Time. I'm just abusing it. XD Well, the last chapter was rather fun, though, I guess. There is so much more to come, so I'll treat you as the Penguins hopefully beat the Flyers today. Happy Easter, everyone! These next-coming chapters are going to be your present from yours truly.

* * *

><p>When I returned to the hotel, I found Eric sitting on the couch waiting for me.<p>

"So I heard you went out with the hometown team," he said. It didn't sound like he was accusing me, so I didn't really think anything of it.

"Well, I was going to, but everyone left by the time I got out because Jordan came to apologize, so we just hung out for a while."

"Hung out?" Eric raised his eyebrows at me. "At his house." He nodded slowly.

"Eric, I'm an adult. I don't need you babysitting me." I wasn't quite sure what is problem was. I wasn't a teenager. Jordan wasn't very intimidating off the ice. He was a nice guy. I enjoyed his company, and I wasn't going to see him again for a few months. "And yes, we just hung out. Nothing else."

"Alright." I knew he didn't believe me, but I didn't care. "The guys waited up for you. Do you want to go out?"

"Sure, that would be great! Let me drop my stuff in my room real quick." In truth, I was exhausted from the game and wanted to pass out, but I was also on a Jordan high. Now that I had time to think about it, that kiss was amazing.

Eric waited in the lobby. I took the elevator up to the third floor where we were staying. I unlocked the door and threw my bag on my bed. I grabbed my purse, stuffed my phone, wallet, and chap-stick inside, and headed back downstairs.

When I had returned downstairs, Eric was waiting right by the doors. There was snow in his hair and he looked almost exactly like his younger brother. I almost wished him out of my head, but I couldn't bring myself to it.

We walked a few blocks together to the nearest bar. It was pretty much deserted save for my team members.

"Hey!" they all called. I grinned at them waving. Eric found two empty spots and we sat. We both flashed ID and ordered our drinks. As soon as they were served to us, I was swamped by sweaty, smelly, drunk hockey players.

"Cheers to our hockey goddess!" Seemed the slurred cheer. I giggled and toasted them, then took a sip of my martini.

"You were great!" Said Ward drunkenly. I mean, that was the best shot I'd seen all night.

"Hey," said Eric playfully, punching his shoulder.

"Ow," said Cam just as playfully and snatching his arm. "You don't know your own strength, dude."

"I guess not," he said quietly, looking at me. "So he apologized, right?"

"Who?" I said, taking a sip of my beverage. Eric was just staring at me. It took me a moment to realize who he was talking about. "Oh, Jordan! Yes. He apologized. I told him not to, though."

"Why not?"

"You know how you said that we'd just get used to the fame? Well, I don't need to be coddled because I'm a woman. I worked for this. I will take it in full stride. I'm not going to sit down and twiddle my thumbs on the bench. I'm here to play hockey, no matter what anyone says or does. This sport is a part of me. I'm going to take everything that anyone throws at me because I was raised to rise to challenges."

"Fair enough," he said, taking a long pull from his beer. "But man, was he guilty-looking."

I shook my head and ordered another drink. We sipped in silence and someone had discovered the karaoke machine.

The first few notes of the song made me roll my eyes.

"Oh, God," I said. Patrick Dwyer was up there with this big grin on his face. "I hope this time never comes!" He said, swaying heavily as he opened his mouth to butcher the song:

_"Closing time  
>Time for you to go out go out into the world.<br>Closing time  
>Turn the lights up over every boy and every girl.<br>Closing time  
>One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer.<br>Closing time  
>You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.<em>"

Patrick's eyes got moving. He was glancing from the group of guys moshing in front of him to me. Strictly at me.

"Oh, fuck," I said, as the entire bar turned and stared at me. Some of the guys in the back had to point at me when the refrain came up.

_"I know who I want to take me home.  
>I know who I want to take me home.<br>I know who I want to take me home.  
>Take me home."<em>

I hung my head. I had no choice. Why didn't I see this coming? I felt my skin flush redder than my sweatpants.

I tugged Eric's sleeve. "Are you going to be done with that soon? My head's pounding and I think we better get out of here before it gets ugly. Well, too late."

Eric put down the last of his beer and threw a two twenties on the table, which more than covered our tabs, chuckling to himself.

"Thanks," I said. He nodded.

"Any time."

We walked back to the hotel, leaving behind the yelling, singing mass, and trecked through the mounting snow. We entered the hotel, too the elevator up together, and we headed to our separate rooms. I pulled out my key and opened the door. As soon as it was shut, I leaned back against it and closed my eyes. I wandered into the bathroom to look for some Advil that I may or may not have had on hand. Luckily, I did, and I popped one, taking it down with a swig of water. I dropped my purse on the bathroom floor.

I undressed and stared at myself in the mirror. I had a lot of bruises from certain checks, and of course the issues on my face. I ran a hand through my hair and sat down on the tub. I turned to look at the faucet, and I began to fill the tub. I went back to my suitcase to get my pajamas, and I waited for the tub to fill. I stretched, happy to have a relaxing day tomorrow before we headed back home and took on Chicago late on New Year's Eve.

We got destroyed by the Blackhawks, so that didn't put us in the greatest mood, but it was New Year's Eve. I was at home, watching Times Square on television, my third beer in my hand. It was a few minutes before the ball dropped when I heard the bell for my apartment buzz.

"Who is it?" I buzzed down. I prayed it wasn't some new fan that found out where I lived.

"Tazer," came the reply. I grinned to myself, but still flinching from Jordan.

"I'll be right down," I said. I jumped down half a flight of steps, thankful that I was on the first floor. I ripped open the door.

"Hurry up," I said, tugging him inside. "It's almost midnight."

I rushed back to my apartment and poured him a glass of champagne. I handed it to him and he smiled at me.

We stood in silence as thousands of people screamed the count-down.

As the ball began to drop, we toasted each other's glasses together. I pulled the glass from my lips, and it was suddenly replaced with something else.

Jonny's lips were on mine. The alcohol in my bloodstream took over and I relaxed into him, happy for something solid to cling to. At the same time, I was shocked. Something inside of me also moved to a few days ago and _Jordan_. I don't know why he was stuck in my head, but there was just something about him that was addictive. This kiss was just, for lack of a better word, anti-climactic.

He broke away after only a moment and I fell onto his chest. He stumbled back and held me in his arms. He was silent, just holding me.

"I watched your game on Thursday," he said, quietly. "You were great. You're going to be amazing, one day." He kissed the top of my head and massaged my neck. I felt his fingers knead through my hair.

"You're beautiful," he said very quietly again. "Do you know that?"

I remained silent. "Why did you come?" I asked. It didn't come out as prodding or aggressive. I didn't want it to be. He had received some hard checks during the evening, and sometimes physical pain could turn emotional very quickly. "Jonathan Toews, why did you come?" I repeated, wondering if he heard me.

"No one should be alone on New Year's." I heard his heart-beat under his well-worn blue shirt. I felt his muscles against my cheek. For now, that answer was satisfying. "Especially someone as special as you." He squeezed me closer to him. I felt as if I were suffocating. I gasped, and he let me go entirely.

"Have a seat," I said, gesturing for the couch that was set up right in front of the television. "Do you want something to eat?" I asked, standing toward the kitchenette area.

He shook his head. "No, thanks, Emily."

I sat down beside him and we watched television for a few minutes. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Those are Jordan's, right?" He asked, gesturing to my face.

I touched the bruises gently. "Yes. They still hurt."

He gave me a small smile. "They're going to for a while. It'll take about a week. He really hit you. I don't think he realized-"

"I don't care whether he realized or not. I want to be treated like everyone else." I pulled my mouth into a hard line. I wasn't so sure why that was so surprising to so many people. I felt as if I may have spoken to harshly with the pained look on his face.

"I understand," he said suddenly. He looked at me after a beat passed. I glanced over at him. His hair looked a little awry and his eyes looked amazing in the lighting. He leaned in, his beautiful eyes fixed on my mouth. I leaned back to the edge of the couch.

"No," I squeaked. "No," I repeated, more firmly. In the past day or two, I had been thinking about Jordan. I wanted to see him again. To talk to him about what had happened, and what I was supposed to do about it. I felt like I would be betraying a chance at something intense if I got involved with anyone else.

Jonathan sat up straight again, not touching me. "Is there someone else?" He asked, staring deeply into his champagne glass and cupping it with his large, long-fingered hands.

"Sort of. I'm not sure, yet."

He nodded. He didn't look at me. "Can I know his name?"

I actually considered it for a moment. "No," I said. He nodded again.

"Please tell me he's not in the League..."

In a way, I wanted to lie, but I knew I couldn't. "I can't. He plays hockey in the NHL." Toews looked more pained than before. I wanted to feel bad for him, but the kiss he had given me didn't seem very legit, or at least not for someone like him.

All of a sudden, my phone vibrated on the coffee table. It picked it up and looked at the twirling mailbox that was moving on my screen. It said that I had just received a message from Jordan. _happy new year!_it said. There was a wink-face attached. I deleted the message and turned, looking at Tazer. He was studying me. His face was non-judgemental.

I felt like I had to elaborate on the text. "New Year's wishes," I said.

"From him?" His face was expressionless. I wasn't sure if I would have liked it better if he was fuming. "You were blushing," he added quietly, a smile licking the edge of his lips.

"Yes. It was from him."

"I understand. I should go," he said. He put his champagne glass on the coffee table and stood. "I'll see you around, OK?"

"OK." I said. I saw him out and just as he was about to walk down the steps, he gave me a half-smile.

"If you ever need to talk," he said. "Just-get in touch. You know where to find me."

Good Lord, what was I going to do with all of these people?


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, Emily," said Eric in about the middle of January. I had hit a slump, and a bad one, too. I has scored an assist in the last few games, but other than that, nothing too productive was going on. I felt bad that I wasn't doing my part on the team no matter how hard I was trying.

"What's up?" I said, sliding over to him on the bench one day after practice. He was picking something on his phone.

"The media are assholes," he said. There was I, missing a goal completely. Under it was an article that talked about how it was a big mistake to let a girl into the NHL and that my goal against Marc-Andre Fleury was an easy shot that he had let in. Fleury had disagreed, but the media still persisted, saying that I should at least be traded as soon as possible to a lower team with less competition.

"Bullshit," I said. My shoulders slumped. How could they do that? I had worked so hard my whole life for this and they essentially were saying I didn't deserve it.

"I know," he said. "I'm so sorry about this."

"Quit apologizing!" I screamed. I was in tears. This made me so mad that I was shaking. The look on Eric's face was amazing. He looked like I had simultaneously hit him in the face with a puck and killed a puppy. I stormed out of the rink and back to my apartment, not calming down until hours later.

It was hours later that Jordan, of all people, called me. He didn't text, but called.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounded concerned, and I was touched, but it took me a moment to keep my anger in check.

"Eric told you?"

"Yeah. He said you swore at him."

"I didn't swear at him, personally. I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just so mad at them. I need to tell him I'm sorry."

"Yep."

A moment of silence passed.

"How's Pittsburgh?" I asked.

"OK. Sid's still out. So's Tanger. It's hurting us, but you know how it is. We can win, it's just easier with them."

"Yeah. I know."

"And Carolina?"

"The media's right about one thing. I'm not doing as well as I should be."

"You're trying too hard," he said almost immediately after I had finished speaking. "You need to just let it flow out of you. You're making the game seem hard. The goal you had against Flower was one of the best I've seen this season because you knew what you were doing but you let the logistics of it get away from you and you just _felt_the shot. You have to get your brain out of it."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"RIght. Thanks. I didn't think about it that way."

"You're welcome." I could hear the smile in his voice. "What are you doing right now?" He asked.

"Talking to you."

"Duh. What else?"

"Sitting on the couch, nothing, really. Might watch TV later, after I get on my knees and beg for forgiveness from Eric."

"I'll have to ask him to tape that for me."

I considered whether or not the question I was about to ask was a good one. "Hey, Jordan?"

"Yeah?" He said eagerly.

I knew he wanted to talk about it, too.

"That night..."

He paused. I didn't want to hear what he was going to say as soon as the words left my mouth. "One-time sort of thing, Emily. I can't do that." He sounded like he didn't want to tell me it, but that it was a fact. I felt something tugging at me, but I wasn't going to tell him that I wish he would reverse the calls on his potential love life with me. At the same time, I knew that dating someone who was on a different team would be hard, and it wouldn't be like we would see each other all of the time. I felt like I had asked a stupid, but unavoidable question. There was a blatantly awkward silence before I broke it.

"Alright. I just wanted that cleared up."

"I understand."

"Okay, then. Bye."

A beat passed. "Bye." He hung up first.

I hung up and held the phone in my hand. Eric's number was lit up on my screen. I dialed it and he picked up in a couple of rings.

"Hey, Emily," he said. I heard screaming from his children on the other line. He was at home and it was around five o'clock. This was a bad time to call.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I should have controlled myself better."

"Don't worry about it. You were under a lot of stress. I just didn't expect it coming from you."

"So you forgive me?"

"Always, Em." I heard him sigh deeply. "Gotta go. Levi needs burped. See you tomorrow."

"See ya."

I hung up, feeling a little better about myself.

The media still pissed me off. More and more recently, they came up with the idea that I would be traded soon, or just let go.

"Eric..." I said one evening after a game, "do you think I'll be going soon?"

"I really can't tell," he said, pulling his skate from his foot. "But can I be honest with you?" He threw his skate on the ground and stared at me, his eyes boring into mine.

"Always," I said, sitting forward on the bench so that I could face him better. I folded my hands and watched him as he collected his thoughts.

"I think Jim and Phil are considering offering you up for trade." He watched to see my reaction. I furrowed my brows.

"Sometimes, I feel like we players are almost like slaves, being put up to trade buy the owners, coaches, and managers. I know, ultimately, that we sign the contract, but sometimes its more difficult than I would like it to be."

"I think I can see where you're coming from," he said, pulling a shirt over his head and standing. "But we'll see what happens. If you leave, we'll wish you well and miss you, and if you stay, great. We'll love you, either way, and definitely have one of the greatest honors to have the first female hockey legend on our team." He stood up and offered his hand to me, helping me stand. I hugged him and we headed out of the locker room together.

"Mr. Rutherford, please!" This could not be happening. I didn't want to leave. I had already made friends. It seemed as if my infatuation with Jordan was dwindling, and I was actually starting to think about the other offers I was getting from different players. Tazer and I had been having long conversations lately, and I was liking how we definitely flirted, but it was nothing serious. He knew that my affections for some nameless hockey player were still there, but I hadn't gotten around to telling him that they were waning yet. But being on the Canes was good. Jonny was even going to be coming down for a while to visit while the Hawks had a long week of rest.

"Emily, there's nothing I can do about it. Another team already wants you." He stood up from his desk and walked around it, holding a piece of paper. "Your agent already approved it. All you have to do is sign. Though, to me, it seemed rather strange how fast they picked you up. It was almost as if they knew you were going to be leaving us. We will miss you, my dear, but you have better opportunities elsewhere. Everyone wants you to succeed, including your teammates. Of course, this is your decision, but I would strongly suggest it. We'll have your plane ticket ready when you are, if you sign."

He handed me the paper. The very first thing I saw was the Pittsburgh Penguin logo. My mouth fell open and I looked up at him.

"They're paying you more than we ever could, Emily. I want to see you do well. Take it." He offered me a saddened smile.

I read the contract. It was only for a year, but maybe that would be enough time for me to improve to better than I was right now. I picked up the pen and signed my soul away to the Pittsburgh Penguins. I was leaving for my hometown team. I was playing for my idols since I was fifteen years old. This was the opportunity of a lifetime.


	7. Chapter 7

I was driving back to my house and I called my mother and father and set my phone to speaker, placing it back on the dashboard."Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad."

"Hey, sweetie," they replied in unison. "How's Carolina?"

"Good, but I have some news." I grinned to myself.

"Oh?"

"Yes." I grinned to myself. "Well, I was put up for trade yesterday and I had a taker."

"Really? Oh, darling, I'm so sorry," said my mother.

"How could they do that?" Asked my father.

"Wait, just wait. I haven't gotten to the best part, yet." I turned into my driveway, parked, and killed the engine. I picked up my phone and got out of the car. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, dear. What's the best part?"

"You know who I wanted to play for since I started?"

"Yes. The Pens."

"Well, Mom and Dad, almost as soon as the news went out that I was put up for trade, guess who picked me up?" I almost screamed into the phone.

"Oh, my God, Emily! This is amazing! When are you coming?"

"They'll be calling to let me know. I can't believe it. This is too good to be true."

"Congratulations!" I could hear them talking excitedly to each other. I was inside now, and I dropped my purse on the floor and ran upstairs.

"You can stay with us until you find a place, Em," said my mother.

"Alright. It shouldn't be too hard to find one, though. But thank you."

"We'll see you soon, babe. That's so cool!"

"Yep. I love you."

"Love you too, darling."

I hung up and grinned to myself. Down the hallway was my bedroom. My bed was right inside the door. My grin grew wider and I took a running start and a flying leap onto the mattress, screaming "I'm going to the Penguins!"

As soon as I had gotten in the sight of the bottom floor of the airport at Pittsburgh, I found my parents standing there, looking excited for me. I met them with a massive hug and we walked out of the car.

"This is amazing!" said my father.

We talked the entire way back to our house in Lawrenceville. My dad put the car in park and we unloaded.

"Mom," I said, as soon as my stuff was back in my old, untouched room, "I've been dying to go to the Strip. Is there still time?"

"Do you need to go to meet anyone today?"

"Some of the guys were going to take me out tonight, but that will be around ten, or so."

"Some of the guys?"

"Well, we were planning Geno, Flower, Jordan, and TK."

My mother lost it. I had to chuckle along with her. "I can't believe it."

"Alright," I said, catching my breath. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. Let's go get your father."

We headed downstairs and told my father the plans. We hopped back into the car and headed down the street until we reached the famous shopping area. It was twilight and a few of the stores were closing. It was around seven o'clock, maybe a little after. We paid for parking and I we headed down toward the beginning of the street. I walked down the street, first, and my parents followed me silently.

"I missed this place. I didn't have time when we played here a few months ago. i wish I could have stopped by."

I sighed deeply. I really didn't want to go in to the stores; I only wanted to walk around. I walked past the PennMac and the tables that were now packed up for the evening. They usually held pastries. I continued down the street and looked at all of the sports gear. Behind one of the tables was a poster of a person who looked familiar.

"Mom and Dad," I said. They came up behind me and looked at the poster. I was me. It said "Welcome, LaRue!" I was in a Penguins jersey and someone had drawn me looking off toward a Stanley Cup. I couldn't be thirty-three for the Pens. I had to be fifty-five, which explained the large '55' on my back. Under that was a math problem: 55+11=66. Under that was the word "Lemieux." It was making the connection that I had never dreamed of. I would never be as good as he was, but the idea was flattering. It took me a moment to remember the hidden significance for me of number eleven.

"This is really great," said my Dad. "Do you think you can...?"

"No. I'll never be as good as he is. The idea is nice, though."

I stared at it for a few more moments and took a picture with my phone. We continued walking. There weren't many people around, and no one recognized me. We finished the lap and got to the end of the road and faced the Heinz History Center.

"It's almost eight fifteen. Do you want to head back and freshen up?"

"Yeah. I need a shower and I want to change."

We walked back to the car and headed home. I took a quick shower, applied a little bit of lip gloss, and put my clothes on. I wore a rose tank top, black skinnies, dark pink lace-up shoes, and a black jacket with a side zipper. I had a light pink handbag to accent it and some bangels on my wrist.

_U ready, Cinderella?_came the text from Jordan.

_Not quite the correct context, but close enough. yeah_I headed downstairs and waited in the kitchen. I had given them my address as soon as I had gotten off the phone with my parents when I was in Carolina.

"You have the keys to the house, right?" Asked Dad. He was sitting in the living room watching ESPN, which was his favorite.

"Yeah, dad." I jingled the keys for emphasis. The doorbell rang and I exchanged excited looks from my parents. "It's them."

I went to the door and twisted the knob. Jordan was standing there and behind him was Geno, Flower, and TK. They looked like a bunch of carolers.

I'd never seen carolers so hot.

Geno was wearing a pea-coat and a black beanie with torn light blue jeans. Tyler was wearing grey jeans, brown Vans, a white shirt with a graphic design, and a leather bomber jacket. Marc was wearing black jeans, a Green Lantern tee, and a grey military jacket. Jordan was mind-blowing. As soon as I saw him, every waning affection for him immediately burst with a new flame. He had on dark blue jeans, a loose-fitting white button-down shirt, a navy blue windbreaker that liked to hug his arms, and to top it all off, he wore a black Pens hat and his hair was swept back behind it. He, more than the rest of the guys, looked sexy.

Jordan let out a low whistle while he looked over my outfit. "Wow." His eyes were wide and he had, I'll admit, an adorably dumbfounded look on his face. I guessed that it was that I hadn't seen him in a few months that I found him a little more attractive.

"Nice," said Geno. The rest remained silent.

"Thanks." I smiled at all of them. "Would you guys like to come in for a moment? It's a little chilly outside."

"Alright."

They all stepped inside, and all of a sudden, the living room seemed very short and small. "Dad," I said, catching one hundred percent of the attention that I may or may not have already had when I had answered the door and found four hockey stars standing on my doorstep. He stood up and his mouth fell open a little. I wasn't too embarrassed. "Well, I guess you already know who these guys are. Everyone, this is my father, Phil LaRue. He's been a huge fan since I was very little. He was the reason I fell in love with the sport." I smiled fondly at him.

"Thanks for lending your daughter to us," said Fleury as he shook my father's hand. He looked like he had just died and gone to heaven. I was scared for the day that Sid came over for dinner. He would probably rent a tux for the event, and my dad hated dressing up.

"And this is my mother, Darlene LaRue." I said, leading them into the kitchen. She was making popcorn enough to feed a small army. "She was against me going into hockey. She thought I'd get killed for sure." They all shook hands with my mother and kissed her on the cheek.

"I see where you get your looks," said Geno. My mother blushed deeply.

"Thank you. Would you like some popcorn?"

"No, thanks," said Jordan kindly. "We were going to head out, if that's okay with you, Emily." He turned and looked at me. I almost wanted to shrink away from his gaze, but I felt like my parents would flip a lid with the intense excitement that was radiating through every fiber of their beings.

"Yes, that's fine. See you later Mom. See you later, Dad." We trudged through the living room and out of the door.

This was the first time I had formally met Tyler, Marc, and Evgeni. Jordan did the proper introduction, and I shook hands with each of them before we piled into Geno's car. Geno drove, Jordan sat in the front, and Marc, Tyler, and myself all crammed into the back. We headed up my street and turned right onto the main street of Lawrenceville. We stopped after a few blocks and parked. I grinned. We were at the bowling alley. I personally sucked a bowling, but I knew there was an Islanders game playing up there in the bar that the guys wanted to go see before we took them on in a few days. We headed up the steps, wandered to the back of the building, had a seat at the bar, ordered drinks, and began to watch their game versus the Canucks.

"So," I said to Geno once we had settled into our seats, "Apparently, you're now Magical Malkin?"

"Huh?" He took a sip and looked at her.

"Well, Mike Lange said a few weeks ago that the puck was passed to the 'magical Malkin.' It was pretty priceless." I took a sip from my beer and signed as the Isles threw the puck into the back of the net. Jordan, who was sitting to my right, tightened his fist in anger.

"I wish he right," said Geno, sighing as he watched the Islanders celebrate. "Come on, Canucks!" All five of us raised our glasses to the television and clinked them together. "But with half the team out, it's pretty hard to get a lot of things done."

The replay went and we watched the puck bounce over the pad of Robert Luongo.

"Alright, guys, let's go," I said to the television.

"Are you ready for practice tomorrow?" Asked Tyler, leaning forward to look past Jordan to me. I gave him a cheeky grin.

"Yes, mother." I heard Flower laughing. I looked past Geno to him and saw his face upturned toward the television and a massive smile on his face. I grinned, too, and glanced up at the TV. Nothing was happening. "What's so funny, Flower?"

He turned to look at me with a bemused smirk on his face. "Mother?" He looked at TK. "We may have to start calling you 'Mother Hen,' T."

"Oh, no you don't," he said. He leaned back in his chair and took a long pull from his beer. He clanked it down on the table. "What about a drinking game to settle it?"

"In all seriousness, though, T," I said, cutting in before this had a chance to get ugly, "I'm kind of nervous. You guys are on a totally different level than I think I've ever experienced. I mean, obviously, the 'Canes are good, but it's kind of amazing when you get put on to a legendary team, and especially in my fashion."

"I can see that," said Tyler, leaning back in his chair more. It almost tipped and he regained his balanced just in time, swearing.

"But I definitely wouldn't say that I'm scared. I was never, ever scared of you guys. You're just a challenge. And it's a challenge I'm excited to accept."

"Challenge accepted," said Tyler in a low voice. We chuckled at him, except for Geno.

"What?" He gave Tyler a blank stare.

"It's what happens when someone tries to do something difficult, Geno," said Fluery, slapping him on the arm. "Get with the program."

"Sorry, Flower. Next mustache boy, you let their puck go in, eh?"

"I think I'll have to for your punishment." He frowned and trained his eyes to the television. "Maybe let Jordy in over you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jordan, who had just swallowed his drink, and Tyler spat out half of his mouthful onto the bar.

"Damn it, Ty, you got it all over me."

"That's what she said," he said, giggling tipsily. Jordan rolled his eyes and tipped the remainder of Tyler's drink down his shirt.

"My bad," he said, smirking.

"You're an ass," said Tyler, still trying to suppress a laugh.

"Yup," said Jordan. "Neal with it."

"Oh, God," I said. "Not that." I covered my face with my hand. "Worst meme. Ever."

"Hey," said Jordan, "I take that as a personal offense."

"We'll fight about it," I said, taking a sip from my drink.

"Too late," said Geno. Flower grimaced as another puck sailed past the Canucks.

"Come on, boys!" He almost yelled.

"Someone needs to give him more booze," I said. I looked over at Jordan, who was looking at me skeptically.

"We need a few more beers," I said. I nudged to my left, making contact with Geno's arm. "Right, Geno?"

He nodded. "Maybe some vodka?"

I laughed. "Maybe." I took a drink and found the bottom of the bottle. "Hey, bartender?" I called to the man at the opposite end of the bar. He walked toward me with a flirtatious look on his face. "Five shots, please."

"Anything you want, sweetheart," he said, winking. He turned around and pulled the vodka from the counter. He set up five glasses in a row in front of me, pouring even shots in each of them. He shoved them toward me and I passed them out along the row of people. "Thought you were going to take them all yourself," he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Nope," I said simply. The bartender moistened his lips, staring at mine as I took the shot. "Thank you," I said, raising my eyebrows dismissively. He stood there, still staring at me, his eyes moving to my chest area.

"Beat it," said Jordan lowly. Either the man didn't hear him, or he refused to acknowledge the massive man sitting in front of him.

"He said something to you," I said. Flower, Geno, and TK were watching the three of us. Jordan hadn't raised his eyes from the table quite yet.

"Who are you?" said the bartender haughtily. His greasy hair shone in the dark light.

"I'm a good friend of Miss LaRue, kid," he said. I was proud of Jordan. He didn't pull a 'maybe you've seen my face around' stunt. He handled this like a normal person. "I suggest you back off." Then, I could have sworn that the other man shit a brick because Jordan but his intimidation face on.

"Let's go," he said, standing up and taking me gently by the arm. The guys threw down twenties to cover the tab and followed us out into the bowing area. We didn't stop, and Jordan's grip tightened to the point of uncomfortableness. We walked down the long flight of steps in silence, and now his grip actually hurt.

"Ow, Jordan, stop it," I said, trying to pull my arm free once we got onto the street. I had apparently pulled him out of his trance as he let me go and stared me down, a fire blazing in the back of his eyes.

"I hate those damn pigs, Emily," he said quietly, his voice dripping with anger. He was a fuse that could go off at any minute. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for him to talk it off. Marc, Geno, and Tyler stood just outside the door and watched the two of us. Jordan's face was slightly contorted with rage while I tried to remain calm.

"Do you want to skate?" I asked, testing the waters of his anger. He furrowed his brows in confusion. He looked over to Geno.

"I have skates in back. We all have similar feet?" He looked from Fleury to Kennedy, then to me and finally Jordan. They were all pretty close except for Tyler and myself.

"I think my Dad's around six foot, Tyler. I can run back and get skates, if you want. I know I'll need mine," I looked at Geno and Jordan, hoping that his mood had dissipated.

"Where would we go?" He asked, his mood lightening a little bit.

"I'm sure they'd let us into the pond. I don't think any of us are quite drunk. Maybe a little tipsy, but not drunk." I felt fine, personally. I wasn't really a heavy drinker. None of the hockey players I knew were. We knew what it would do to us if the chance presented itself. "I can walk home, if you want."  
>"I'm coming with you," said Jordan. I sighed.<p>

"No. You stay here."

"If you get hurt-"

"I'll scream and you'll be hauling your asses over there to help me," I interrupted. I didn't need him coming with me everywhere. I was capable of taking care of myself. I understood the bartender was being creepy, but sometimes, it felt like he needed to lay off a little bit. "Really, I'll be fine. I'm going to say this in the politest way possible, Jordan, but lay off. I don't need you protecting me all of the time."

His nose twitched. I knew I had struck a nerve with him. "I'm sorry, Jordan. I'll be back in a few minutes." I headed off toward my house, which was literally only about five blocks away. I walked in, said 'hi' to my mom and dad, ran downstairs for my dad's skates, upstairs for mine, and then headed back. They were in Geno's car on the way to get me when I saw them. I walked out into the street and they stopped, letting me get in.

We took the ride to the South Side in almost total silence. Jordan was even more grumpy, now. Geno was having a bit of a tough time navigating in the dark, Tyler had passed out, and Flower was giving me half glances through the corner of his eye. I was confident that we'd be alright after the guys got some energy out of their systems.

Geno finally found the place and pulled it. It was deserted except for a security guard. He looked at the five figures coming toward him with some scrutiny, but when he saw who it was he smiled and turned on half of the lights for us and let us into the rink.

"I hope you enjoy your time, but don't go more than an hour or people will be complaining 'till kingdom come."

We thanked him and he turned around and headed toward his booth. We laced up our skates and I headed out onto the ice first. Then came Geno, then Flower, Jordan, and finally Tyler, who was still rubbing some sleep from his eyes.

"You doing alright over there, Kennedy?" I called from almost half-way down the massive ice rink. I did a little pirouette and continued down the ice until I reached the other side. I picked up speed and met Fleury, who was working his way towards me.

"I hate it when they get like this," I said to him and looking Jordan's way. His head was down and he was frowning. "Stupid tempers." My mind flashed back to when he kissed me. Where was that Jordan? Where was the charming boy who took my breath away?

"He'll get over it. He always does. He's just jealous," came the French-Canadian accent. I loved hearing it in person. I smiled a bit at him.

"Jealous?" I tried to imagine what a millionaire like him would be jealous of. Maybe it was someone else's love life? Maybe he thought I was taken. Nope. Sure, I had my whole string of suitors, from Jonathan Toews, to even the little baby Tyler Seguin. Tyler, I had to admit, was a bit more forward than, let's say, Tyler Bozak, or even Tazer, but it was almost to be expected due to the Cup high that he apparently was suffering from. Whatever. Cute, but not my type. I also appreciated someone over the legal drinking age. It's not like we could really go out to bars and such.

"Yeah. Of something about you, but I'm not entirely sure what. One day, he'll let it slip, but until then, we'll do some gentle prodding and see what happens. I think it's safe to say that his last relationship with a girl wasn't exactly the most ideal. It's kind of a bite when you find out she's been sleeping with someone from a different team for about a month and you're right about to get into some serious business. Needless to say, Staalsy was heartbroken and things ended quickly after that." Flower shook his head and glanced over his shoulder. Jordan was coming a little closer to us with Geno and Tyler in tow. They were skating backward together and bumped into Jordan, who was now really working on catching up with me and Marc. He landed on his knees and turned around, flipping the older guys off.

When he looked back at me, however, he was chuckling to himself. "Those guys..." he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I know I get defensive sometimes."  
>"Eh. You did what you felt was necessary in the moment. There was no real harm done," I said. He was skaing on my right side and Fleury had dropped back and was whistling awkwardly. I gave him a weird look and he returned it with a cheeky grin. I sighed and picked up speed.<p>

We dodged Geno and Tyler, who were now having a race going backwards, and then both slamming into the boards and falling onto the ice. Obviously, there was no harm done, but they were laughing their butts off in the process.

"So it seems like Fleury's the only normal one."

"You haven't seen him in practice, Em. That boy gets wild. He at least as the decency to keep to himself a little more in public. The practices aren't filmed and he's almost never mic-ed up. If he was, people would have a massively different idea about him." He smiled and I felt a little better due to his lighter mood. "I'm happy you're here, Emily. I thought you'd be taken before we got to you, but we really need the players."

"I'm happy I could be here. I've always wanted to play for Pittsburgh."

"You told me that before." His voice was gentle and reminiscing.

"I did? Sorry." That was about three hours before he kissed me.

"Nah." I almost expected an 'I could see you forgetting,' but it never came. For that, I was some-what thankful. He just acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. He said it was a one-time thing. For some reason, I didn't believe him. Maybe it was the feelings inside me that said he didn't mean it, but I just had a feeling as he watched me and his eyes occasionally flicked down to my lips that he was just trying to control my hopes to something more legitimate. Imagine how the media would explode if they found out I was in a relationship with a teammate? I know I'd rather not.

I sighed deeply. I checked my phone. It read 12:00.

"I guess we have to go. We showed up, what, around eleven?"

"Sure," he said, looking over toward the rest of the guys. "Tyler's gonna have one massive headache tomorrow," he said.

"Sucks..." I said. I skated back to the edge of the rink and Jordan and I sat down. I was unlacing my skate when I felt his hand on mine.

"J-" I began.

"Shh," he said. He was kneeling on the the concrete behind the wall of the rink. His hand was gently supporting my calf as he untied the skate with one hand. He unlaced it a little bit and pulling it off my foot. He moved over to the other side, but I put my hand on top of his. He looked up at me with those eyes and I almost considered pulling my hand away. I literally picked the extremity up and took it off my skate.

"I got it, Jordan," I said. "Thank you."

He was blushing deeply.

"A one-time thing, eh?"

"I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about, Emily."

I nodded silently and put my shoes back on. Marc came out of the rink first after us and looked from me to Jordan and back, but our faces betrayed nothing. He was almost knocked flat on his face by Geno, who wasn't paying attention, and Tyler, who still had some alcohol left in his system and was holding his head.

We thanked the security guard and headed back to Geno's car. As we all climbed in, Tyler passed out almost immediately, Marc took the front this time, I still sat in the middle, and Jordan sat by the door. I saw him key something on his phone just as I was about to get out of the car when Geno finally pulled up to my house. I saw him hit send and then unbuckle his seat-belt, hop out of the car, help me down, say goodnight (and conjure a groggy good-night from the rest of the guys), and then hop back into the car.

Geno waited until I was inside until he pulled away. I pressed my back to the door and sighed deeply. Tonight was wonderful.

I headed upstairs. I had just reached the foot of the steps when my phone buzzed. I didn't have to look at the ID, but I did anyway.

_2 things. 1 im sorry about how i acted. 2 i lied. have a nice night-Jordan_

This boy was going to end up being more trouble than he was worth. First, the text nearly blew my mind. What was he thinking, telling me that? Boys never acted that way towards girls. Ever. That was just being too obvious. I felt nervous, too. I knew (or at least hoped I knew) what he was talking about when he said he lied. Did that mean a kiss from him was in my future at some point soon? If so, when? If I was honest, it was probably better that I didn't know than me just anticipating it all of the time. I decided to keep the message in my memory, but not let it interfere with anything. If he wanted this to happen, more power to him, but he would have to come for me, first.

I decided I was going to call Tazer and update him on everything. I sent him a preliminary text. He said he was still awake and watching a movie, so I began to call him.

"Hey," he said after picking up his phone.

"Hey, Jonny."

"What's up? I haven't talked to you in a while. I heard you moved to the Pens."

"Yeah. I was meaning to tell you, but they wanted me right away. My first practice is tomorrow." I grinned. I was so excited for it.

"So you still like that guy?" He asked slyly.

"I'll let you know when there's an opening, bud."

He laughed heartily. I loved to hear his laugh. "So you'll still let me visit you, right?"

"Yeah," I said, falling back on my bed.

"What was that?" He asked. I sighed.

"I'm just trying to relax a little bit. I went out with some of the guys.

"Ooh, a date!"

"Shut up."

"Anyone you like?"

"I plead the fifth."

"So there is! I think this guy you like is on the Pens. I'm going to have to beat him up." His voice was playful. "Who?"

"You'll find out if we get in a relationship, Toews. Until then..."

"So is the first ok?"

"Of April? Sure."

"OK. I'll tell you when I have the times."

"Alright. I'll talk to you then."

"See ya!"

"Bye." I hung up the phone and sat up. I changed into my pajamas and got into bed. I fell asleep withing a few minutes.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day, I pulled on a Carolina Hurricanes shirt and Penguins sweats. I shouldered my bag and headed out to the Consol Energy Center.

Pittsburgh had a haze falling over it. Smoke was coming out of buildings from the heat that they were distributing throughout the building. There were a good amount of people about, but it wasn't rush hour-esque. I passed some homeless people who were still sleeping and business lackeys that were holding steaming cups of coffee while waiting for the bus to someplace, maybe the PPG Building or Highmark Building. They wore the faces of people who had woken up too early for a Monday morning and had stayed up too late last night to be effective.

I stopped at a red light and watched the busy mothers cross in front of me, pushing squalling children. They looked agitated as they took their kids for a walk. I sighed. One day, that would be me. Not soon, but one day, when I've retired, I'd've loved to have a family. I sighed. One day, I would look like them, taking my children for walks as the world passed by and my current actions meant nothing to the future.

I didn't want to sound haughty, but at the moment, I felt pretty important in the world of hockey. Maybe ten, definitely twenty years from now, what I did here, today, would not be as important as it is right now. I was making history with ever foot closer to the ice I got.

The light changed color and I stepped on the gas. I took in more of the city and my mind lingered more on what I was right about to do. Even in Carolina, it hadn't really hit me. Maybe it was the idea that I was going to be playing for my hometown team that shook me from the idea that I was just a hockey player. Sure. I played the game, but I was revolutionary.

I took a deep breath. I saw the building from the road and made the turn to head toward it. I pulled in and killed the ignition. My fingers gripped the wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white. I grabbed my bag from the passenger's seat and slung it over my shoulder. I got off the car and headed toward the player entrance, which I had never before set foot in. I pasted on a confident smile, while inside my heart was racing. I wasn't quite sure why I was so nervous, but I felt like I might burst. My stomach churned and my eyes widened. I was at the hallway that led up to the locker room.

I closed them for a second to get my bearings, trying to calm myself down. I reached out and pushed the door open.

All of the guys at least had their sweaters on and were lacing up their skates.

"Am I late?" I asked quickly, my voice cracking.

All of the heads in the room snapped up. It almost seemed as if they were trying to catch their first look at me as a Penguin first. A few eyes roved down to my shirt, a smirk forming on some of their faces.  
>Dan Bylsma came in and smiled cordially at me. "Hey, Wonder."<p>

I sighed. So the name had come into the locker room. I smiled to myself. "Hello, Coach," I said, smiling widely at him.

"Get your gear on, kiddo," he said, writing something on his clipboard. My eyes almost gravitated toward Jordan, who was staring at me intently. Our eyes met for a moment and a hint of a smile toward me flashed against his really kissable-looking lips. Awesome. It was the first day and all I could think about was kissing the first hockey player I laid eyes on. I broke the stare and sat down after doing a quick scan to find my little plaque. I put my stick in the stall and toed off my shoes. I ran to a shower and changed my clothes quickly. My socked feet curled against the tiles as I pulled my sweater over my head, followed by my practice jersey. I pulled on my Under Armor, pads, shorts, and socks, then my skates. The guys were still sitting there when I came back out again, and I looked at them with a strange look. I grabbed my helmet and stick and headed out to the ice.

They all formed a line behind me. It reminded me of momma duck leading her ducklings out into the pond. I started to veer to the right as soon as my skate hit the ice. I took a lap and headed toward center ice to stretch with the guys. They did splits and lunges and some twists and arm circles. Then, we stood up and the forwards got some pucks from the bucket near the opposing team's bench and put them down on the ice.

The D-men faced us, taking us two or three on one, and skating behind us as we headed down the ice three or four at a time, trying to score.

I went fourth and was faced with Despres and Engelland. I dribbled the puck as I headed down the ice. I focused intently on the puck and where the two guys were and flicked it right past them and missed right of the goal. We all turned, I fished out my puck, and headed back toward the back of the line.

I didn't notice until he rounded the bend that Jordan was right behind me.

"Hey," he said, tapping me in the skate with his stick.

"Hey, Gronk," I said playfully, shoving him back a little bit.

"You wanna fight?" He asked, shoving back.

"Maybe," I said, smirking at him. Even in his hockey gear, he managed to not smell horrendous, which was an accomplishment. "Depends on if you're going to recognize me as a girl or not."

He laughed at me. "I don't know, Emily, you can be pretty beastly sometimes."

"Pardon me?" I said, pretending to sound offended. "I may have to quit hockey after that one. You've discouraged me from all play. That's it. I'm hanging up my skates."

"Aw, come on," he said flirtatiously, grabbing my elbow as I started to skate away from him. I felt self-conscious, as if someone would hear or see him. I swallowed thickly, and then heard Deryk and Simon start to skate down the ice.

"I've got to go," I said quietly, heading toward the net and not even breaking past the defenders this time.

Jordan didn't talk to me for the rest of the practice. I did have some conversations with James Neal and Dustin Jeffrey, who were put on the same line as I was for a little scrimmage we had.

"Jordy's told us a lot about you," said James, "but he never told us what you actually like to do other than play hockey. What were you going to do if you weren't drafted."

"Become a nun," I said, smiling.

"What?" Dusting looked up from staring down at his skates. "A nun? Do they let pretty athletes into the convent?"

"I'm serious. I was on a nun kick. My parents raised me a Catholic and my mom was pushing me to at least consider it. I really wanted to play hockey, and my dad was convinced I would do it. I actually graduated from Gannon University in religious studies. I wanted to maybe be a religion teacher or something when I got out of high school. I mean, I'm no saint or anything, but I just find that kind of stuff interesting. What happened back then is the basis for a lot of stuff in our lives. An obvious example is the years."

"Hmm," said James. "I wouldn't have thought you the type."

"Yep. But I do kick butt at trivia night. When I was growing up, my mom would get me these random facts books and I would memorize everything in them."

It was our turn to go on the ice for our shift and I was the first to get the puck. It gravitated toward my stick as I sprinted down the ice. Michalek was skating against me and my tongue flicked over my lips as I decided which way to go around him so that I could get a clean shot on Fleury. I whirled right and fired the puck off my stick just inches away from Zbynek's skate and through the pads of the Flower. I grinned to myself and took the face-off at center ice. I threw the puck over to Neal, who took it toward Fleury, but missed wide left. We got off the ice and watched the rest of the scrimmage. I grinned at Jordan as he skated past. He winked at me and I found myself blushing deeply.

"You two..." said Jeffrey,

"We're just good friends," I said, watching him skate around with a smile on my face. I felt myself blush when my brain involuntarily went back to his kiss.

"Uh huh." Dustin frowned, and out of the corner of my eye I saw James smirking.

"Oh, my God, really?" I nudged both of them and they busted up laughing. "You guys suck," I said, blushing even redder than I already was.

"He hasn't stopped thinking about it."

"How do you know what he is thinking?"

"I can see it in his eyes and how he acts. Something went down between you two, and we're going to find out what it is," said Neal. "TK and Geno are the main perpetrators, here. Better watch out," he said. I sighed and coach blew his whistle, signaling that practice was over.

I skated to Jordan and looked him full in the face. To me, he looked like he was a blank slate, but I something inside of me made me think that the guys were right.

"One-time thing, eh?"

"What?"

"You know." I nudged him. He frowned in thought.

"Oh. Yeah. One time thing."

"But you said you lied."

"I did. That's twice, now." He smiled and stepped onto the runway. I followed him. I was the last to leave the rink. I shut the door behind me and ran to catch up with his lengthening strides, almost tripping and having to grab onto his arm for support.

"Don't you walk away from me after saying something like that," I said, tightening my grip on his arm. He flinched, and I released my hold.

"Later. Let me take you out to lunch."

Great. Lunch. It was totally unassuming of anything.

"Mustache boy," whispered TK into Jordan's ear the moment he stepped into the locker room. After we take on the Caps, we're doing Mustache boy. Flower has it in for you, dude."

Jordan blinked that the distraction. "Cool," he replied. He turned back to me. "Please."

He sat down and pulled off his practice jersey. Then, he removed his skates, pads, and socks so that now he was just standing there in his sweater and Under Armor shorts. I worked to keep my eyes on his face while he bent over to grab a shirt, soap, and sweats. His body had to be sinful. I would have never survived as a nun.

"Lunch? Fine."

"We'll do the same ordeal as before. I'll drive. It'll be a surprise for you."

I got a shower and changed as quickly as possible. I hadn't brought anything to change into due to the fact that I hadn't expected to get asked out, so I put my tee shirt and sweats back on. Jordan had been waiting for me. We walked out to my car, I put my things inside of it, and then we walked to his car.

"You liked practice?"

"Yeah," I said, almost instantly thinking about Nealer and Dustin.

"You're thinking about something, Em."

"Yep." I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. I was afraid that he would see my face change.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked. We got into his car and he turned on the vehicle. Ironically, one of my favorite songs was playing.

"I love this song," I said. I began to hum along as he drove, turning up the volume. He went a little closer to the river, and then he pulled into a parking lot. There was a big Subway sign, and I stared at him, still humming. He was staring at me with an amazingly sexy look. I took a deep breath, my eyes widening.

"What?"

"You didn't answer the question," he said, still leveling me with that amazing look.

"I was thinking about Nealer and Dustin. They were on my line."

"Okay," he said slowly. His look changed to flatness. I frowned. "Anything else? I mean, I'm not trying to be controlling here. It just looked like something was bothering you."

"I'm not going to lie. Something was, but I don't think I can tell you that." I understood where he was coming from. Of course he wasn't trying to control me. I was smart enough to get out of that if he tried. I sighed, my chest heaving.

"If you need to talk to me about anything," he began. He didn't continue his sentence because he didn't need to. I already knew I could trust him. I had started to trust him when we had began to text and talk over the phone. Even before he kissed me I knew that he was a trustworthy person.

"Subway, eh?" I said, teasing him.

"Le gourmet restaurant," he said, imitating a French accent. He pulled the keys from the ignition and walked around to the other side of the car to open the door for me.

"Wow, thanks," I said, smiling at him. I took the hand that he offered and hopped down onto the ground. I lowered my hand but he continued to hold it firmly. It startled me. I understood that he actually did want to try some things between us, but I didn't think he meant immediately. I looked at him with wary eyes and he returned my gaze reassuringly. "Are you sure about this?" I asked.

"I'm not planning on rushing this, Emily," he said, squeezing my hand lightly. It felt warm and big and still managed to fit in mine. The feeling of physical contact with him, I hate to admit, made my heart flutter. His palms were callous and rough against my own palm. There was so much strength in those hands that I could understand if it was reflected in his play. Every part of him was strong.

Our elbows brushed together and he opened the door of the Subway. Immediately, our hands fell apart and about half of the restaurant stared at us as we ordered and sat down. We had a mutual idea that

Jordan took a bite of his sub. "I know. Not exactly the nicest place." He smiled at me, a piece of lettuce stuck to his teeth.

I bit my lip, stiffing back a laugh. "You've got a little..." I motioned for a scratching motion on my tooth. He blushed and picked it off, placing the little bit on the napkin near by. I took a bite of my sandwich as well and took in all of the flavors. We sat like that for a while, watching each other eat.

"You know, this really isn't that bad," I said. "I've been on a lot worse." I grinned at him playfully and he blushed again.

"Well, I'm happy to know I'm not your worst, there, Miss LaRue."

"Oh, no. You're beating him by far. He was into Manga like a demon. It was scary to hear him quote things in both Japanese and English."

"Why did you date him, then?"

"Oh, we never got past the first date. He smelled bad and had the greasiest hair. I don't even remember why I went out with him in the first place. I think he was fine from a distance and he messaged me or something asking me if I wanted to go out with him." I grimaced, remember how he tried to shove his tongue down my throat. "Bad experience." A beat passed. "What about you? Any catastrophes?"

"Eh. Not really. Some fans are a little more crazy than others, but I'm pretty selective about my girls," he said, adding a wink toward the end. I sighed deeply and took another bite of my sandwich.

"You meet any other suitors?" He asked playfully, a smirk falling on his features.

"Actually..." I began. Should I tell him about Toews? "I did dabble a bit with Toews, and Seguin had a bit of a crush on me, but other than that, nothing." I didn't dare meet his eyes as I saw him stiffen as if he was trying to be defensive. He took an angry sip at his soda.

"Toews and Seguin? I better sharpen up if I'm going to go against those two." He visibly relaxed as he made a joke of his jealousy. It both scared and flattered me.

Wait. Did he just say that? I giggled nervously. We ate in silence for a while, collecting our thoughts.

"I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat and crumbling up his empty wrapper.

"No. I was just a little thrown off. It's not your fault." I crumbled up my wrapper too and we both stood to throw our stuff away and leave. Jordan held the door for me and almost as soon as we were out of the restaurant, his hand found mine. He squeezed it tenderly and looked down at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

We got to his car and he opened the door for me, helping me inside. We drove in silence back to the CONSOL Energy Center, the music playing quietly in the background. It had changed to something more upbeat that I didn't know. I rocked my head back and forth and exposed my neck as my head tilted back to the headrest. I noticed Jordan's gaze flick over to me and he tensed up. His ears got red and as he pulled into the parking lot, I closed my eyes.

I felt him stop in what I assumed to be a parking spot and within moments, his mouth was on my neck. His lips pressed over the small lump that was my Adam's apple, and then moved more toward the bottom of my face. I took a deep breath and moaned when he nibbled on my earlobe, feeling his teeth dig into my flesh and his lips wrap around his teeth. The sensation caused me to shiver. He pulled away, concern in his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" His hand rested on my thigh and consequently, my thigh tingled, but I was too busy getting lost in those eyes to really notice too terribly much.

"No," I rasped. I should have realized that my voice was not to be trusted. I cleared it and then sat up a little straighter in the seat. "Thank you for this afternoon," I said. I opened the car door quickly and regretted his hand slipping off of my thigh and hitting the leather underneath with a loud smack.

Within a few moments, he was by my side again, but he didn't reach for my hand.

The scene seemed very similar to that night a few months ago. I watched him the entire time as he followed me back to the car. I unlocked it and got in. He stood outside and and I rolled down the window. A wind picked up and blew my hair back and his hair forward into his face.

"My God, I wish I could kiss you," he said, staring intently at me.

"Jordan,." I said, inserting the key into the ignition and turning it, my car revving to live. "You sound like something out of Hemingway."

"If this is _A Farewell to Arms_, I think I'll like where this is going."

"You never read the ending, did you?"

"I never do," he replied. "I like to leave it to my imagination. I always have. Always will." He smirked and his stunning eyes focused on my mouth. His eyes fell half closed and he leaned in, his fingers bracing on the door of the car. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but not now. I couldn't do it now. it wasn't right. I leaned back so that I was straight in the seat.

"No," I said quietly, but firmly. I stole a glance at his face and he looked dejected. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you," he said, giving my car an encouraging pat and stepping away from the car. I put it in drive and headed out of the parking lot. I looked out of the rear-view mirror. Jordan was standing beside his car, watching mine recede into the depths of the city.


	9. Chapter 9

The next week went by rather quickly. Jordan kept his distance a little more. If we were the only two left after practice (which only happened once after the date on the first day), he would grab my hand and thread his long fingers through it, and each time I could tell that we wanted to kiss, but it wasn't the right time. The first time it happened I was too tired and too shocked to feel anything but that.

"Hey," I said as his fingers gripped mine.

"Hi," he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek. I closed my eyes, felling his soft lips on my still-moist cheek. He moved his head down to tug lightly on my ear lobe with his teeth and then he pulled away. I shivered and squeezed his hand. The feeling of his teeth on my ear still was leaving sensations run down my already shivering spine. "I think this is the worst part," he said, his forehead resting on mine. I closed my eyes and felt his breath on my lips. Normal people would be kissing by now, but we stood like this for about a minute, taking the the essence of each other. I liked him being so close, but he had to step back. I opened my eyes and watched him focus on a strand of hair that was falling onto my shoulder. He held it gently between his fingers for a moment before letting it go.

"I hate it," he said. I nodded. I stepped back from him and turned to grab my things.

"I have to go," I said. "I promised my mom and dad that I'd make lunch." I felt his eyes on my back. I shouldered my bag and turned to look at him once more. His eyes were filled with so much longing that I could barely stand it. I smiled at him and walked out of the locker room.

"Hi, Emily!" Came a call I had not heard in ages. In the living room sat my beautiful blond cousin Carmen.

I dropped my bags and stared at her. She was a few years older than I and as I fully looked at her, I was still a little jealous of her looks. Her hair went half-way down her back and was pin straight naturally. She had large, bright blue eyes and a tiny nose. Her round lips were full and never without a gloss. She had high cheekbones and perfectly plucked eyebrows. She was very thin and had maybe an inch on me, and on top of that she liked to wear heels.

She stood up to give me a hug and I got a whiff of her Armani perfume.

"Hi, Carmen!" I smiled at her kissed her on the cheek. "I didn't know you were coming in." I took my stuff and headed into the kitchen where my mother was.

"So I hear you're dating a pack of super-hot hockey players," she said, sitting down on one of the chairs around the kitchen table. I opened the fridge and rooted around for something to start with for making lunch.

"I'm not dating them," I said. I could already feel my cheeks and ears flaring up. My phone buzzed, and I didn't even have to look at it to know who it was from. It was from Jordan, and he was asking if I had gotten home alright. I pulled my phone out and gave him a reply, then shoved it back into my pocket.

"But you have picked one, right? By the way, congratulations, girl!" Carmen crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her elevated knee.

"Well, there is someone," I admitted. I hoped they wouldn't ask me to tell.

"Ooh! Who?" Carmen was always one for gossip, but I still loved her. She was the flirty, girly type and I was more often than not more reserved and boyish. I guess I considered myself more elegant than she was.

"I bet it's Jordan," said my mother. "He's such a sweetheart."

"No, Darlene, it's Geno," said my father. "Or Neal."

I remained silent. "You already said it. Look at how she's looking at me," said Carmen. I sighed. This wasn't going to be good.

"It's Jordan. I know it is," she said. I bit my lip and checked my phone, hoping someone had texted me and I hadn't noticed. No one had. "She's blushing."

I turned around and reached for the oak cabinet's handle. I pulled some noodles out of the pantry and put them into a pot of already boiling water. I decided to make spaghetti. It was easy. I found a can of tomato sauce and dumped that into a pan, too. I salted the spaghetti water, mixed it to keep the noodles from sticking together, and covered it so it would heat faster.

"Is it?" Asked my mother and father.

"I'm not telling," I replied. "Sorry. You'll have to wait and see. Are you going to be coming to the game Thursday, Carmen? They have to re-organize the lines to figure out where to place me." I turned my back to the counter and sat up on it.

"Yes, I'll come," she said, "but please, while the pasta's boiling, go take a shower." She waved her hand in front of her nose, indicating that I smelled. I had already taken one, but maybe the general hockey funk had attached itself to my clothes.

I ran upstairs and picked up a pair of sweats and a tank-top. I pulled my shirt off in the bathroom, then I unclasped my bra and threw it down onto the floor. I peeled off my sweats and panties and just stared at myself in the mirror. Ten years ago, I was this flabby little girl with no definition what so ever, and now it was as if my body had exploded. I undid my hair and let it fall around my shoulders.

I turned around and turned the knob of the warm water. When I had adjusted the water to the perfect temperature, I stepped inside, pulling the curtain shut behind me.

There was a feeling of heaven on my body as the water poured over my aching muscles. It seemed as if the Pens' practice was more hardcore than other ones that I had experienced. I closed my eyes as I sud myself up, and all of a sudden, an assault came into my brain.

Jordan was in the shower with me, entirely naked. I looked at his toes. They curled against the cold tile and then flexed as he stepped over onto my own feet. Our toes battled with each other for a few moments before my eyes slowly moved up his body, roving over his ankles and higher.

His calves were flexed and defined. I hooked my foot around his ankles, bringing us closer together. I felt myself bushing, but also objective. I felt as if I was discovering something exclusive and pure. I moved up to his quads. His femur seemed as if it went on forever, his muscles converging together at his knee for power on the ice and intense grace off the ice. My eyes roved up to his hips. His hipbones jutted out of his pelvis and I found myself reaching out for them. I rubbed my thumb absently against the groove there and I felt his body stiffen. I glanced at his navel for a moment, but then my eyes fell on his penis, which was hanging flaccid from his pelvis. I had to notice that it was approximately five inches long and the area around it neatly shaved. My thumb stopped moving on his hip and I absently squeezed his hip firmly, but gently. I refused to fixate upon it (though not without much discipline), as my hand dropped back to my side and I looked up toward his abs. They were well sculpted and looked almost tanned. His sides were also muscular and tight against his body. They accented his pecs beautifully. I looked up toward his shoulders and watched the muscles ripple across them and down onto his biceps. They looked soft and I wanted them wrapped around me as a protective shield. It would feel better than any kind of warm water ever could.

His fingers moved slowly and I found my hand reaching out and tracing along his palm. My hand moved up to feel the strength in his arms. It danced feather-light over his neck and finally to the nape of his neck, where my fingers wrapped around his still-dry locks. I looked over his eyebrows, then to his intense blue-green eyes, across his cheekbones, down his nose, and finally settled on his long, pouting lips. He was blushing as he looked at me, and his mouth moved to form a small smirk.

I felt his arms wrap around me and travel down my back, settling firmly on my ass. He pulled me in toward him, my hips grinding against his, and I gasped, my eyes opening.

Just like that, he vanished. I looked at the emptiness of my hands in silence. I washed the suds out of my hair and stood in there for a few more moments, relishing in the total hotness that I had just experienced.

Eventually, I had to shut off the water and get out of the shower. I did so and grabbed a towel. I dried myself off and put my clothes on. I pulled my hair up and looked at myself in the mirror.

I smelled something burning, and my eyes turned wide.

"Oh, shit!" I said. I ripped the door open, turned off the light, and sprinted downstairs into the kitchen. I turned off the steaming, charred spaghetti sauce and the burnt noodles. "Oh, my God!" I said, slamming my hand down on the counter. I took the pots off of the counter and took the few steps to the back door. I kicked it open and stuck the pots out there so they wouldn't stink up the house.

"What's up?" asked Carmen, who was only now sauntering into the kitchen, my worried-looking mother in tow.

"I burnt lunch," I said, blushing and almost yelling at Carmen for being so oblivious. I began to bite my fingernails, a habit that showed up when I was very angry. "I'm sorry."

Carmen sighed and my mother looked even more worried than before. "I didn't realize I took so long in the shower."

"Sweetie," said Mom, "I hate to say it, but this is the third time you've cooked for us since you came back to Pittsburgh, and the third time you've burnt it. Are you sure you're a good cook?"

"No. I guess not," I replied sheepishly. I just wanted them to have a nice lunch made by me, and if I'm honest, I can't cook at all. Mom tried to teach me when I was younger, but I just never caught on. I'd get distracted and forget about the pizza in the oven and get absorbed into a hockey game and there went the pizza until the smoke detector went off.

"Do we have to order pizza again?" Called my dad from the living room.

"Yeah, that would be good," I said. Ugh. Why me? I heard Dad talking over the phone and I sighed.

"So, about these boys," said Carmen, sitting down at the kitchen table, "how many of them are single?"

"Seriously?" I plopped down across from her. "Um, I don't know. Not that many, I would say. It's not like I asked around and was like 'how many of you are available?'"

"Well, I thought maybe you knew this ahead of time," she replied defensively.

"No, sorry," I said. I heard my dad's phone flip shut.

"They'll be here in half an hour," he called from his perch in the living room.

I held my head in my hands and ran my fingers through my hair.

"But do you know of any of them?"

"No," I replied. She could get any man she wanted. I don't know what was so appealing about hockey players. She had nothing to worry about. "Must you always have a boyfriend?"

"It's better that way," she said. "Though I do hate leaving him. I guess you're right," she said reluctantly. "So what's Jordan like?" She asked, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table and bringing her hands up to her delicate chin.

"Well, I guess I'll show you a picture..." I pulled out my phone and got onto the Internet. I hit up Google and typed in his name. I found a picture that suited him and touched it with my finger. "Here," I said, extending my arm toward her. She looked at the picture and squealed. I blushed, drawing the phone back toward me.

"An he's in love with you?" She asked, nearly jumping up and down like a little girl. Her smile was breaking her face. My heart fluttered as my mind involuntarily returned to that night and how his lips felt against mine. I shivered.

"He might be. I'm not sure," I looked down at the phone and smiled at it.

"Can I meet him?" She asked. I looked back up at her after I returned to the home screen. I tilted my head to the side, thinking. A small smile betrayed me and I said yes.

"Yeah, you can," I said.

My phone buzzed and I checked the message. I didn't recognize the number, but I accepted the text anyways. It read: _Hey, it's Cal. U busy?_

"Cal O'Reilly?" I said.

"Hm?" Carmen's face lit up and she practically launched herself over the table to look at my phone.

"Nothing. Cal just texted me."

"Ooh. Is he hot?"

"I don't know," I said angrily. "Why don't you see for yourself Thursday? That's only two days."

A mischievous grin flashed across her pretty features. "Who do you play next?"

"Well, we play the Oilers tomorrow and then Chicago. I'm hopefully playing at the Chicago game." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Tazer must have forgotten that he was coming...but he couldn't have. I knew as well as the next person that the week's games loomed on you like some huge building and devoured you the moment you stepped into the locker room.

I quickly texted Cal back, _Not really. I just burned lunch _

"Mmm," she said. "Can I come to the Chicago game?" She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling prettily. It didn't even cross my mind that she might try and steal my guys away from me, but then again, what was the likeliness of that happening? Very small. On top of that, the only one that really mattered romantically to me was Jordan, and we definitely shouldn't be together if he could fall so easily for a pretty girl (not saying that I was ugly or anything).

I grinned at her, my inner conversation coming to a concluding close. "Yeah. That would be awesome. I might be able to even let you in the locker room." That I wasn't entirely sure about, but how else did the press get down there? Obviously not everyone could, but I'm sure if she (and the rest of my family) had special permission, they'd be allowed in. On top of that, it was my first game and they were family.

"That would be so cool!" She jumped up and hugged me, and I returned her awkward embrace. Lately, the only person who hugged me was Jordan, and I was half expecting his amazing smell to fill my nostrils as my nose brushed into his chest. I blushed with the memory.

My phone buzzed again, and we pulled apart. _Is that typical of you?_

_Why don't you come over and find out?_I texted him my address and turned to Carmen. "Do you want to meet one of them now?"

"Sure!" She smiled at me and ran upstairs to do her hair or something.

I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at my phone, willing it to go off and tell me about Jordan or Cal or Tazer, but it never did. I folded my hands and looked around the kitchen. The oak cabinets were an accent for the yellow granite tile floors and matching counter top. The kitchen was separated by a counter, and behind that counter was the table at which I sat. My back was to the windows, which looked over our small yard to the street. I turned around to watch the cars go by, and coincidentally, a car pulled up with a pizza delivery sign on top of it and came to a halt in front of our walkway. I stood and decided I was going to answer the door before it had an opportunity to be knocked upon.

"Carmen!" I swung into the main hall and called up the steps for her. "Food's here!" I turned around and took the three strides to the door and pulled it open. The person who was standing there was not the pizza delivery guy, or at least I hoped he wasn't.

I grinned at Cal. "Clever, sir," I said, snatching the box from him. I turned around and headed back toward the kitchen.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" He asked coyly and quietly. He was just starting to warm up to the team, even though he had been there for about three months, now. I put the pizza on the kitchen table and came back out into the hall. I looked at the tall, serious-looking blonde. His hair was awry and wind-blown and his eyes looked serene. He had a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips and his large frame, for some reason, looked really good in the house.

"Sorry. Put your coat on the peg over there and take your shoes off. Unless you told Jordan you were coming over and he's coming to kill you, you're the only guest here, well, except for my cousin, Carmen." I gestured to the pegs behind the door. Call shrugged off his gray wool coat and hung it, then took off his scarf and put that over the peg, too. He toed off his shoes and then stood in his socked feet, looking at me.

"So," he said, trying to find something to talk about.

"I should introduce you to my parents," I said, leading the way into the living room to find my dad on the computer answering e-mails and my mother working on her Pilate's.

"Mom, Dad," I said, shaking both of them from their activities. "This is Cal O'Reilly. Cal, my mother, Darlene and father, Phil."

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. LaRue. It's a pleasure to meet you. And let me just say, your daughter is really great." He shook hands with my father, and then my mother, who was blushing due to the fact that she was meeting company in yoga pants and a sports bra. She tucked a sweaty strand of dark hair from her forehead and shook his hand.

He took a step back to stand next to me and I elbowed him. He flinched, then looked at me. "Dad," I said, ignoring for the time being the strange look Cal was giving me. "The pizza's here."

"Great. Darlene, do you think you could spare a few moments and have lunch with us? And Emily, where's Carmen?" My father brushed past me. Don't get in the way of that man and his food!

"I'm not sure, Dad. She went upstairs to fix her makeup or something right before Cal showed up." I looked at him and shrugged. I noticed he was still looking at me strangely. 'Really great?' I mouthed at him. He blushed and I shoved him playfully, puckering at him and making kissing sounds. He chuckled and picked me up, carrying me over to the kitchen.

"Cal O'Reilly, put me down, or I will back-check you 'till kingdom come."

"Don't think she won't. She's hard checker," my dad said over a piece of pizza and winking at the two of us.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang. I shot Cal the most evil glare I could muster. "You didn't," I said. "Oh, my God. I'm going to kill you, Cal." He just grinned wryly at me.

I answered the door and was nearly knocked over by Marc-Andre Fleury, Sidney Crosby (pardon my French, but holy shit! Sidney Crosby's in my house!), Matt Cooke, Kris Letang, and Pascal Dupuis. They thundered past me and, smelling food, headed toward the kitchen. I heard Cal greet them and I wanted to slap him for not telling me that half of the rest of the team was coming, too.

"Mom, Dad," I said tiredly. I considered introducing them all, but then I realized the truth. "You know who all of these people are anyway. Guys, this is my Mom and Dad, Darlene and Phil LaRue." I gestured to my parents and their gazes simultaneously went from my mother to my father, who were both looking at the men in awe.

They all introduced themselves and my mother nearly passed out when Sid shook her hand. To be honest, I'd never actually met him, either, so I was pretty excited. Mom's eyes were fixed upon him as he moved around the room and finally came up to me, a grin playing on his good-looking features.

"So you're the LaRue that every one's been talking about," he said playfully. He shook my hand and I felt myself blushing deeply. I felt like a little fangirl, when I was actually going to be playing hockey with him. That part didn't hit me until now.

"I think so," I replied sarcastically. "Sorry. That was rude. I'm a little star-struck right now, to be honest."

Sid laughed. "I understand. You'll get over it. I know I did." He slapped my shoulder playfully and then glanced down at the pizza box, which was now almost entirely destroyed.

"Oh, come on," he said, mocking a pout. Flower looked up at him and grinned, pizza sauce stuck in his teeth.

"You know there's only one way to get it, Crosby."

I looked, for some reason, at Matt Cooke. His eyes lit up at the idea of blood. I had to giggle. He shot me a look and I made a poker face. Dupuis smacked him upside the head, sending Cooke into a fit of laughter. "Just kidding, kiddo," he said, winking. I glanced over a Kris, who was watching me intently with searingly warm eyes. Mirth was hiding behind the perpetual adoration for everything in this world. Whatever girl who got such a look as his complete love was the luckiest girl in the world. Regardless, he was practically hiding in the corner, nibbling on his piece of pizza and watching the scene play out. I scooted over toward him and nudged his shoulder.

"I never realized you were this shy," I whispered to him as Sid and Flower got into an argument over the last half-piece of pizza in the box.

"I like staying out of the way," he said quietly, his gaze only momentarily breaking from the action to meet my eyes. He offered a small smile. "I'm really not that bad, or at least not as bad as people like to paint me. I love this. Every aspect of it." The look in his eyes flashed momentarily to that deep love, but it was more passion than sensual. I felt myself swoon a little. Carmen needed to be here to see this.

On cue, my cousin came down the steps to find the horde of hockey players gathered around the kitchen table and her younger cousin standing amid them.

"Carmen," I said over the hubbub. Only now did I notice that my parents had run away somewhere. "This is Sidney Crosby, Marc-Andre Fleury, Cal O'Reilly, Matt Cooke, Pascal Dupuis, and Kris Letang. Everyone, this is Carmen, my older cousin. She'll be coming to the next home game." They all introduced themselves and Cal almost immediately descended upon her.

"Well," I said to Kris, "I guess he found his person."

Kris shook his head, his hair whipping about lightly, only to fall perfectly back into place around his shoulders. "What?"

"You talking about Cal?" said Matt, tugging Duper into the conversation. I looked at the two older guys and smiled at them. "Yeah, actually. He kind of swept up on my cousin pretty quickly."

"Oh, no, that's just how he is," said Matt, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. I glanced at Sid and Fleury, who were still going at it. "He's just being welcoming. Actually, I think we need to introduce her to Tyler."

"Oh, my God," I said. Kris grinned at Matt.

"That's a really good idea," said Duper. I looked at him, wide-eyed.

"So it was you!" I said, shoving him lightly. "You're the little trickster that every one's talking about."

"Oh, no, not me! No, trust me, if you think I'm bad, you need to see some of the other guys. Flower just can't keep his hands to himself, sometimes, so he's always in on something, but no. Some of these guys you seriously have to watch out for."

"Anyone you can tell me about?"

"I'd have to kill you," he said, winking. Kris attempted to contain a smile, but failed.

"No! I have an idea!" said Sid loudly over all three of the conversations. "Emily, come here, please." He waved me over and stood me right in front of the Flower. I was standing so close to him that I could actually smell him, and he smelled so good. I almost wanted to say he smelled better than Jordan, but he lacked the Jordan scent. It seemed to me that all of the Staal brothers that I had met so far had it, and it was the best on Jordan. Maybe they had inherited how their mother smelled or something, but there was just something about Jordan's smell that was divine.

"Do it," said Sid, shoving me so that my chest bumped into Marc's. I looked up at him, frowning.

"What does he want me to do?" I asked. "Hug you? I don't know how that's going to get him his pizza."

"No. He wants you to kiss me." Flower pretended to looked terrified. I laughed out loud. He grinned.

"Sid, who's the engaged man, here?" I said. "Clearly, you are forgetting." I turned around and pouted at him.

He huffed playfully. "Fine."

I quickly turned around and pecked Flower on the cheek. He laughed.

"Jordan would kill me if he found out." He smiled again and rested his hands on my shoulders.

"What?" Said four other hockey players. Flower's tongue shot over his lips and his eyes sparkled.

"Jordy's in love," he said.

"Oh!" Said Matt and Pascal. They shared a look and I groaned inwardly. This was not going to be good. "We are getting TK and Nealer on this immediately."

"I'm going to kill every one in this room," I said, "Except for you, Kris. And besides, those two already know, I think. So does Dustin."

He cocked his head at me and reminded me of a border collie. A smirk played on his lips and I had to smile at him.

"Mustache boy is coming up," said Matt, looking at Marc. "We're going to have to come up with something good if you lose."

"I'll bet you you forget about it by the time it comes," I countered.

"Oh, no we won't," he said. Matt whipped a text and I didn't want to know what it said. I saw ideas pop into people's heads

"You're not even denying it," said Cal. Carmen had a huge grin on her face, and I almost wanted to slap her.

"OK, guys. Party's over. Go home." This didn't need to go any further. If they did actually end up planning something, I didn't want to know what it was.

"_Closing time,_" sang Flower. He grinned at me. I shook my head and sighed. Cal headed out into the main hall and pulled the door open, grabbing his coat and pulling on his shoes. The guys filed out. Kris was the last to leave, and he stared at Fleury, who was dancing down the walkway.

"That boy..." I said.

"You'll get through it," said Kris. "But he really is a great guy." He put his arm around my shoulder.

"I know. That's what Jordan said when I first came here."

"He's right, you know," he said, pulling away and heading down the steps and onto the walkway. "You really are that great of a girl." He winked at me and walked to his car, not turning back.


	10. Chapter 10

_So guess who can't keep his mouth shut?_ Came the text a few hours later. It was from Jordan.

_Flower,_ I replied instantly. I sighed. I should have known this was coming. Was he mad that I didn't invite him? Well, Cal was the only one actually invited. I considered mentioning that, but then realized that maybe I should wait. I glanced up at the television song. I was watching one of my favorite movies, _Dirty Harry._

_Yep. So who did you actually invite over?_

_Cal. I wouldn't be able to control myself with you around._I added a wink face to it. Immediately, my phone rang and I knew it was Jordan.

"Yeah?" I grinned. I think the last part of my text set him off.

"You couldn't control yourself?"

"Not with you in my house. Sorry." I grinned, and I think he could tell. I could practically hear his eyes close and him hang his head.

"When?" He asked. "When can we actually be together? When can we stop being afraid that they're going to judge us and realize that their judgement doesn't matter."

"Well, first we're going to have what normal people call a real kiss." I made my voice sound sarcastic. I heard him sigh.

"I know it wasn't exactly what you wanted. I'm sorry I did it at all. I've been crazy ever since. And you couldn't respond to it. It wasn't right of me to kiss you like that, especially considering everything that was on your mind."

"I wanted you to, Jordan, I think." I hated that he sounded desperate, like he was going to die without me. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? But honestly, I don't know when we can. I mean, we have a lot of games coming up. Oilers and Capitals back to back, then only a day before we play Chicago," I paused, realizing that that was the first time I'd said the schedule right today. I'd have to talk to Carmen and my mom and dad about that so that we'd get it straight. "And between them we have Mustache Boy. I guess I wouldn't shave my legs? That could get gross..."

I heard Jordan laughing and I felt my cheeks redden. "Please don't," he said. "I want you to win. Though it would be funny if it got down to the two of us."

"I'd have to kick your ass again," I said. I quietly groaned nervously as the bus scene came on my television.

"What?" Said Jordan, who must have heard me.

"Just _Dirty Harry_. I'm at the bus scene. I hate that one."

"Really? I love that scene." He sounded sarcastic, but I wasn't entirely sure.'

"Sicko," I said, giggling.

"So," he said, changing the subject, "tomorrow's game day."

"Yep. But Dan said I wouldn't be playing until earliest Chicago." I paused the movie, turning all of my attention to Jordan. "At least it's a home game."

"So I guess you're one for starts in the Consol Energy Center." I could hear his smile. I remembered our fight.

"That was a really good fight, wasn't it?"

"Really good. You know, I think he's going to put you in for the Caps." His voice was earnest.

"I've been practicing my boxing," I said playfully.

"I hope you don't have to use it on anyone." He sounded wary, now. I grinned to myself. I hoped who I might have to use it on didn't pick a fight with me. I hadn't actually taken any boxing lessons, but it was a nice cover story. "I mean, you did throw some pretty hard punches. Are you planning on knocking him out?" I thought Jordan knew who I was talking about.

"I don't know. That depends."

"OK. But if you're getting it, I'm coming in to help you."  
>"No, you're not," I said firmly and almost immediately. I was a little startled at my own firmness.<p>

"OK, then. I guess I'm not."

"OK." We paused for a moment. "Did Marc tell you what happened?"

"During what?"

"The party, or whatever that was." I rolled my eyes. I couldn't actually be mad at any of them for any sort of time.

"Well, I heard there were some death threats thrown around, and now that half of the team knows about us, we're screwed for Mustache Boy."

"You think they're going to make us..."

"I hope not. Not in front of all of those people, but I do know for a fact that it is a closed practice."

"That's odd. I always loved to go see Mustache Boy."

"You were there?"

"Mellon sent some kids in journalism over every now and then," I admitted sheepishly.

"Oh. I didn't know you were kind of associated with us before, you know, you actually were." He sounded awkward.

"Yep."

"I miss you."  
>"It's only been a few hours, Jordan. And that was kind of random." I hit play again on the television and fast-forwarded through the bus scene.<p>

"I'm sorry. I just had to say it."

"I miss you, too."

"I don't mean this to be an agreeing conversation, though." He sounded a little disappointed. I wanted to agree with him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him forever. The scary part was that we'd never had a fully consensual kiss. Of all things regarding to our romantic relationship, I wanted that the most from him. Well, obviously I wanted his love and respect, and I was pretty sure I had that. I also wanted to give that to him, as well. I had been in a few past relationships, and only one ended in a horrible way. I had a feeling that that would haunt me later.

"It's not," I said. There was no sound on the other end. I figured he was thinking. I imagined him lounging about shirtless and a pair of sweats hugging his hips. His hand was running through his hair and that exposed a bruise on his under-arm that he had received from a hard hit a few nights ago. He was probably sitting on the couch that we had shared my first night as an NHL pro.

I hesitated for a moment before posing my question. I didn't want to sound like I was trying to be clingy or nagging at him for his company. I just wanted to be around him and enjoy myself, considering that I was rather bored here at home. "Can I come over?" I tried to make my voice even and conversational.

"Of course. Anytime you want, you can come. Can you drive, or do you want me to pick you up?" He sounded easy and a little relieved. I wanted to see his face.

"I'll drive," I said. I wanted to think and not have to worry about him as a distraction. I changed into jeans and a white lacy top with a long thin chain necklace. I applied no makeup (I never did, unless forced by Carmen). I threw on my red flats and grabbed my keys, yelling to my mother and father that I was going out. I really needed to get a house of my own.

The drive through the city was really nice. The sun was just beginning to set over the skyscrapers and traffic was a little thick, but other than that, it was a very peaceful drive.

As I drove, I tried not to think about him. I tried to concentrate on the music that was playing over the stereo. I took a turn that headed me toward my old elementary school and turned down the music a little bit. All of a sudden, my phone told me I had received a message. I glanced down and saw that it was Tazer. I ignored it until I pulled into Jordan's driveway a few blocks down the road.

The text was conversational, _Hey, how are you?_

I replied back that I was a little busy and that I would call him later that night. He replied with an affirmative and I shut my phone off, pocketed it, my keys, and my wallet and get out of the car.

I could hear music blaring from inside. There were no other cars in the driveway, and I figured Jordan had put his in the garage. I walked from his asphalt driveway to the flagstone steps. I rang to doorbell and within moments, the door was open and I was assaulted with the smell of chocolate chip cookies.

"Hey!" He said, grinning at me. "That was fast. Do you want some cookies?" He turned and headed toward the kitchen. I followed him, laughing.

"I guess so," I said awkwardly. "I have to be honest. I've never been asked that before."

"Good," he said. "At least you can say I was original."

"Oh, always." I grinned at him and he wrapped his arms around me, pressing me to him.

"It's private property, you know. Why don't we just screw the rules?"

"Once we get to this point, there's no such thing as privacy."

"Don't remind me later," he said, winking. I felt my cheeks reddening. "I like your outfit." He looked down at my shoes, grinning. I pointed my toe at him and I saw a small smile lick at the corners of his soft mouth. "Nice touch." He turned and began to walk toward the kitchen.

"I'd like to say the same about you." I followed him and perched on the barstool. He grabbed another pan of cookies and shoved them into the oven.

"Those smell amazing," I said. He looked at me and a devilish grin spread over his face.

"Give them a minute, then you can have one, OK, little Suzie?" His eyebrows were raised and he was smirking at me now. His agonizingly long legs carried him to stand right in front of me within an instant. His hands rested on my shoulders and he kneaded them thickly. I rose my shoulders to his touch and closed my eyes. His fingers danced on my neck and fluttered against my collar bone.

"You did this to tempt me, didn't you?" He asked, his mouth so close to my ear. I felt his stubble against my cheek and involuntarily shivered. His nose touched against the back of my jaw and I felt a warmth well up inside of me. His soft lips pressed against my hairline and he murmured something. I couldn't pick it up, though. I found myself moaning when I noticed his hands on my hips and that he was pressing me firmly into the counter. It didn't hurt, but I noticed my shirt had rode up and he was taking advantage of pressing his warm palms against the newly-feverish flesh of the small of my back. "That outfit, how so damn _sexy _you look in it."

"_Jordan,_" I said, the name sounding almost like it came from an animal. His chest hit mine and crushed my breasts against him. My breath began to come in sporadic puffs. His face was so close to mine, he was out of focus, but I could see his eyes were half-closed. His lips hovered and inch above mine and it seemed as if we were just exchanging each other's air. I felt him tense as he nearly closed the gap between us-

The buzzer for the cookies went of and we practically flew apart. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable. He turned off the buzzer and pulled the cookies out of the oven. I watched his chest rise and fall with the frustrated breaths he was taking.

"Are you going on the road trip?" He was aggressively shoveling the cookies onto a cooling rack with some that were already cooling. He turned the oven off and stared at me as I hesitated in my response.

"Yeah. Like you said, Dan was thinking about maybe putting me in for the Caps."

Jordan nodded silently. He was like an animal only a few minutes ago, and now he was reserved and charming and sweet. That warmth I had felt before hadn't receded. I wasn't surprised about the feeling, but I considered it scary that almost everything he did made me want him more and more. My resolve wasn't going to last out much longer. I could last a week, tops. And I also felt that he was getting frustrated with me.

"I'm sorry about all of this," I said. "I really hate to do this, but I don't want to see you judged by everyone."

"You don't want to see yourself judged. Let's be honest. I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, but when I first came here, I really had to think about who I would choose as my girlfriend. It was weird to see a whole bunch of girls just throwing themselves at me. I hated it, but I finally found someone who was good enough for me, and I picked her. Granted, she was a bit of a whore and I later found out how much our personalities clashed. It was really bad for a while, and then we broke up. And from there, you know the story, and probably better than even myself. Your mind is something to behold." A small smile lit up his smooth skin and lit up his sea-colored eyes. I reacted subtly, containing my desire to hug him and also to hunt down whomever did this to him. He reminded myself of me.

"I think you're right. To be honest, I'm scared. I was in a really bad relationship with this guy in college. He took my virginity. Granted, I didn't know about any of this," I paused to gesture at the house, at him, "and I thought that I might spend my life with him. But the day after we slept together, he started spreading rumors about me and how much I was a slut and some other terrible things. We ended it that very day. I refused to date anyone since then." Tears stung at my eyes, but I managed to beat them back. Regardless, Jordan wrapped his arms around me and kissed the part in my hair. His sweet scent of lemon, linen, and grass filed my nostrils, and that combined with the distinctly warm and musky scent of his house and the chocolate chip cookies he was making.

His hand ran up and down my back. "That really sucks, Em."

"Hey, your relationship wasn't the greatest, either." All of a sudden, I noticed a tear had slipped onto his shirt. I pushed him away, wiping my spilling eyes. "I'm sorry. I should be more tough."

"It's alright," he said. He didn't touch me, and I was thankful for that. "Do you want to watch a movie?" He walked back to the cabinet and got out a plate. He put some cookies on it in a neat fashion and headed into the living room. He put the cookies on the coffee table and crouched down in front of the television. He opened the black cabinets on the TV stand and gestured to them. "I have no chick flicks. Sorry."

"How could you not have chick flicks?" I pretended to look shocked, but he could see my sarcasm. I looked at his stash and quickly chose one of my favorites, _Fight Club_

"I should have expected something like that," he said, smiling at me. I haded the DVD case to him and he plopped it in the player, pressed play, and settled into the couch beside me.

"I had a wonderful evening, Jordan," I said after the movie was done and the cookies had been demolished. I really hope you do great tomorrow. I'll see you bright and early at the Center, right?"

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to pick you up." He walked me down the hallway to the door. He opened it for me and he flinched against the chill.

"That would be great." I got up on my toes and kissed his cheek. He gave me a hug.

"I'll pick you up at six," he said. "Goodnight."

I turned around and headed for my car. I got inside and turned it on. Iris, buy the Goo Goo Dolls came on and I had to laugh at it's relation to his evening. I looked up and saw Jordan's face illuminated by the light outside the door. He looked like an angel against the snowy foreground and the dim lighting behind him. I offered him half of a smile and waved at him. He waved back, and I pulled out of his driveway and headed back home.

I lay on my bed in my pyjamas, my phone in my hands. _Sorry, Tazer. I have to be up early tomorrow to go to Edmonton, then I'm going to Washington to kick Oven Chicken's butt._I grinned and pressed send. I flipped my phone shut and crawled under the covers.

_I hope you won't have to kick mine,_he replied. I laughed and replied that I hoped I didn't either, and that he'd never be able to live it down. I hadn't seen him in about three months. I was excited. I turned off my phone and fell asleep.

My alarm woke me up the next morning. I rolled out of bed, pulled on some sweats, and grabbed a bagel for breakfast. I grabbed my duffel and just as I looked out the window, Jordan pulled up. I rubbed my eyes and watched him get out of the car and walk toward the house.

All of a sudden, a pair of arms wrapped around me. I jumped and almost screamed. I turned around and saw Carmen standing there in her pajamas and a blanket wrapped around herself. There was a knock at the door.

"Bye, Em. Have fun and kick the Caps' ass."

"I'll try," I said, giving her a big hug. There was another knock and I opened the door.

"Jeez, what are you trying to do, wake up the entire neighborhood?" I shoved his shoulder playfully. He smiled at me and looked over my shoulder to Carmen, who was giving the two of us a wry smile.

"Who's this?" He asked, stepping around me and tilting his head slightly to look at her.  
>"Carmen. She's my cousin." Jordan looked at me and something shocking was in those eyes, but I didn't know what it was. It was as if his eyes could see into the future and that there was something that he could envision. I was cautious as to whether or not I wanted to know what he was thinking.<p>

"It's very nice to meet you, Carmen," he said. His eyes never moved from her face. As they shook hands, she blushed and smiled sheepishly. The moment didn't last long, though, and Jordan turned to me, a look in his eyes that spoke of uneasiness. "Are you ready to go, Emily?"

I nodded and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "I'll see you later, Carmen," I said. I looked up at Jordan, who was heading out the door. I followed him and looked over my shoulder once more at Carmen, who waved at me. I wiggled my fingers at her and closed the door behind me.

"What was that about?" I asked as soon as we had gotten about a block down the road. Jordan was on edge. Our bags were in the back seat. It was a very cold morning, so I sat on my hands while the car regained its full warmth.

"There was something about her that was really interesting. I wasn't quite sure what it was, though."

"You're scaring me, Jordan."

"Don't be. You're the only person I want to be with. Please don't forget that." He bit his lip. He sounded irked. I wasn't quite sure what he wanted me to think about what he had just said. Attraction looked like it had taken place. I wasn't going to be clingy, considering that we really weren't in a relationship and I also got to see him almost every single day. Maybe I was always a little concerned when Carmen was around good-looking guys. I really hated how immature that was, but sometimes, I couldn't help it. "Really. I couldn't hurt you like that, Ruey."

There were a few moments where we drove in silence. The radio was silent, but the vehicle was warmed up, now, so my hands rested on my lap.

"I really need to get you some new sweats," he said, looking down at my legs. "And a new shirt." I actually looked at what Jordan was wearing. It was the exact same as me, but he had a beanie on and obviously, it was Penguins gear.

"I'd look exactly like you," I pointed out.

"I'd like to think you're prettier," he quipped. I sighed. He read my expression and changed the subject. "You're excited, right?"

"Of course I'm excited. However, I really would have liked to have played my first game with the Pens in the Consol Energy Center, but playing against the Caps is just as good. I was telling Tazer about Oven Chicken."

"Oven Chicken?" Jordan quirked his eyebrow and turned onto the Fort Pitt Bridge. The traffic was just beginning to wake up in the city. Those that had to be early to work were now starting to move about. The stasis of Pittsburgh was being broken.

"Ovechkin," I elaborated. Jordan grinned and chuckled.

"If you say that to him, I think he might fight you." He merged through traffic seamlessly and we entered the tunnel.

"That may not be a bad thing," I said. "I'm planning on being physical this game."

"Don't you dare get yourself hurt, Emily LaRue," said Jordan in all seriousness. "That would be the shortest career ever, and I don't know what I'd do without someone to compete against in Mustache Boy."

"Oh, so this is all for you?"

"I'm a professional athlete with a Stanley Cup, sweetheart," he said sarcastically. "Of course it's all about me." We came out of the tunnel and headed down the road. There were some people coming into the city, but not many.

"Do you have any idea what they're going to make us do for Mustache Boy?" I asked, changing the subject.

"No..." he said. I looked at him with a skeptical look. He was blushing like a little boy who knew he'd get in trouble.

"Liar," I accused. "Tell me." I looked back out toward the road. I saw signs for the airport. I saw about three other cars on the road and came to the conclusion that at least one of them had to be my teammate, other than, obviously, Jordan.

"I can't," he said regretfully. "They told me to swear." Now he really sounded like a little kid. I could see he was a little excited behind his nervousness. I sighed. I wasn't going to get it out of him, no matter how hard I tired. He didn't seem like it, but I knew he would be really stubborn about not telling me.

"That's a pretty lame excuse, though."

Jordan just smirked. We drove a few minutes in silence. I looked at the trees and hills and stores up on the tops of hills, which I had seen dozens of times, but always looked at anyway.

"Have you been writing any of this down?"

"Writing? That's not exactly my style," I said. If he thought I kept a journal, or God forbid, a diary, he was mistaken.

"Not even some hidden blog somewhere? Not in a Bible? What was with the whole nun business, anyway? Someone like you..." The honesty in his eyes made me flex a muscle in my jaw in nervousness.

"I don't know, Jordan."

"I mean, the whole nun thing is kind of, I don't know...It didn't really cross my mind the first time I met you. Or saw you, for that matter."

"So what are nuns supposed to look like?" I asked, feeling defensive.

"This isn't about your idea of a career choice, Emily," said Jordan easily. He scratched his head, which made his hair stick up. Impulsively, I reached over and smoothed it down for him. He looked at me suddenly, but then averted his eyes back to the road. "This is about my impression of you. Well-" He paused and looked at me, almost expectantly.

"You really are a little boy. Do you really want to know what I thought of you when I first saw you? Do you want me to be honest?"

"I think honesty would be the best," he said nervously. He tugged at his ear and scratched right behind it.

I looked at his hair that was flicking up behind his ears and his hard-looking brow. I tried not to imagine my tongue running along his jaw-line, or the fact that the air in the Consol Energy Center changed when I heard his voice. It was almost as if Eric had stiffened when his younger brother walked in the room, but it was for Jordan's sake. The protectiveness for him was touching.

"I thought that your brother was the most alert person in the room for both of our sakes, and I thought you were even better looking than when I'd watch warm-ups or little videos on YouTube. And I wanted you to touch me." I ran my tongue over my lips.

"Eric is the most protective of all of us," said Jordan. "He has all three of us, plus himself to look after. I mean, don't get me wrong. We'll fight to the teeth for the people we love," he paused a moment to look at me. My expression remained blank. I was really flattered that he had said that. I knew he was talking about me. Of course he was. But it was beyond that. He was talking about his family and he was talking about his teammates. "But I thought you really belonged there. You belonged in a hockey uniform, but for some reason not in a 'Canes one." He smirked.

I resisted his humor. "I feel better here," I supplied. I loved Carolina, but Pittsburgh was home. It had been since the day I was born. I smiled to myself, and we arrived at the airport in a peaceful silence.

Jordan parked and pulled the keys from the ignition. We opened our doors simultaneously and stepped out into the chilly morning.

They took our bags and we met up with the rest of the team. Marc-Andre Fleury grinned at the two of us and I found myself blushing deeply. My pulse pounded. I tried to find something to look at other than that mischievous grin.

I looked to my side and noticed Jordan had wandered off. My stomach grumbled. I didn't know why I was so nervous, but I couldn't help it.

James Neal was the first person to come to my side. His hand instinctively found the small of my back, fluttering between my shirt and the edge of my sweats. I turned to face him and his hand fell away. I searched his face for comfort.

"Jordan didn't realize," he began. I ran my tongue through my extremely dry mouth. "He didn't realize you'd be nervous."

"I'm not-"

"You're lying through your teeth," he said, concerned.

I tore my eyes from his face because the rest of the team was headed toward the plane. I did not agree or disagree to his statement.

"Let's go," he siad after pausing for a moment. He gave me a small shove and a reassuring smile. "You can do this. You wouldn't be here if you couldn't."

I sighed and we went up the escalator. We caught up with the rest of the team and went through security together.

We loaded onto the plane. I decided to sit in the back sandwiched between Cookie and Duper.

"French salute!" Yelled Pascal. I looked at him and every single person in the plane raised their hands about their heads.

I smiled. "What the hell?"

"Oh, come on," said Duper. I wasn't sure if he was serious or not. "Don't you get it?" He looked slightly hurt. I frowned.

"No, I get it," I said. I mocked him by putting my hands up in surrender. "Don't shoot me, I get it."

Duper laughed and Cookie chuckled.

"And now I get stuck with you two," I pretended to grumble. Matt made a pouting face.

"We're not that bad," he said, giving me his perfected puppy-dog eye look. I sighed and rolled my eyes. He cocked his eyebrows at me.

"Hey, none of that!" I said. I smacked his arm and he immediately clutched at it.

"Not so hard, woman!"

"I would have thought you'd be tougher than this," I said, pretending to pout. A boyish grin spread across his features. He winked. I made a face and shook my head.

I sat down and look to the man sitting beside me. Pascal Dupuis was making the silliest face I had ever seen.

I barked out in laughter and the entire plane turned around to look at me. Duper had his poker face on and Matt was giving me a confused look. I blushed. Everyone turned around again and Tanger came back.

"Do I need to rescue you, or can you two behave yourselves?" He gave me a wry grin.

"We'll try to be good, Momma 'Tang," said Matt.

"Good. I already have a problem child." He inclined his head to where Flower was in Jordan's bag, cranking up the volume of his MP3 player before he sat down.

"Good luck with that," I said. He saluted and went back to his seat.

We headed off toward Edmonton. The team held conversations on the plane and some of the boys played on their DS's with each other.

The plane ride seemed rather short. We arrived in Edmonton around lunch time. The crew was going to get our stuff and put it in the hotel rooms for the night.

I stood in the airport with my bag across my shoulder. I looked around appreciatively. The place looked welcoming enough. I shivered slightly, taking in the slight chill in the air. Jordan, who was standing to my right, took notice. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me.

"No thanks," I said, brushing it off. It really wasn't that cold. Once we got moving, I would be fine.

Jordan shrugged and put his jacket back on. Flower came up behind us.

"Stop standing there like tourists," he said playfully. "People are going to think you're weird." He twirled his finger around his ear, mocking us as if we were crazy. Jordan gave him a shove.

"The little lady's taking it all in, dude." He patted my shoulder affectionately. "This road trip is kind of a big deal for her, for everyone, really. I mean, we're not the 'Canes." Jordan looked at me as if he needed permission to dis, if only lightly and in jest, my old team. I frowned without much distaste. I didn't mind.

Something changed. I didn't really know what it was, at first, but when I saw him walking toward me as if he had just seen God (or maybe, in my case Mary), I knew it was he. He wore a worn tan leather jacket with tons of pockets, distressed dark blue jeans that had little tears along them. Well, they were more frays than full-out holes in his pants. He had on brown sporty shoes. His shirt peeked through a lighter blue-ish gray polartec jacket with a hood that was under his leather one. His shirt was black with a gray design on it that curved up the left side of his body, but I really couldn't make out what exactly it was of, considering he had two jackets in the way and his hands were stuffed in his pockets.

His body build was tall and lean. I wouldn't have said skinny by his gait. He was sure footed and I could sense the confidence that hid behind his slightly timid exterior. He may have been strong and bulky, but I couldn't tell from all of the clothes he wore. He looked a little rag-a-muffin with good taste to me.

He looked slightly frightened and crazy, and his hair probably contributed to that. It was extremely dark and he looked like he had just rolled out of bed. His short hair stuck up at odd angles and he seemed to have smushed it down in the front, but it looked very, _very_flattering on him. Some stray strands of hair fell over his lightly creased forehead. His brow was clearly defined and he had thick, but not bushy eyebrows. His earlobes peeked out from the fringes of his hair. His jaw was about normal, maybe on the wider, more shallow side, so his face looked wide, but not disproportionately so. He had a bit of a cleft chin. Not extreme to the point of he looked like he had a butt on his face, but it was slight and seemed to fit perfectly with his conflicting features.

His lips were thinner and were a warm color. They were accented by the dark stubble on his face and his philtrum's light shadow. His nose was crooked in what otherwise would have been all the right places if I didn't have a Greek hockey god standing right beside me, who was eyeing up the same man with a careful, tenacious air.

His high cheekbones didn't protrude and seemed to flow from his easily set eyes. But his eyes were the killer. They were guarded by nearly impossibly thick, black lashes. The eyes themselves were just a little large, but not bulging and not wide. He had a way of looking that was calm but alert, calculating. It seemed as if he saw everything, but wouldn't let you know it until you thought he didn't know. His irises were a frigid, icy blue that pierced through the room. And they were focused straight on me.

Almost instantly they darkened into a warm, rich blue that nearly took my breath away. Jordan was beautiful. There was no denying that. I loved (or thought) I loved him very much for both his looks, but of course more his personality.

Anyway, this man was God himself.

"Hello," he said, smiling only at me. His straight, white teeth shown almost a little too brightly in the industrial lighting of the airport. He stuck his hand out toward me and I took it tentatively. The man squeezed it briefly. Professional, clean, and friendly. Jordan visibly stiffened.

'Right,' I thought, 'Fight to the teeth for the ones you love.'

"My name is Caspar Laurenson. I'm with the paper here in Edmonton and was sent here to do an interview with you. I understand you just got off the plane. I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch, coffee, maybe, with me while I ask you a couple of questions?" He looked at Jordan and Marc with ease. It was as if the hulking, muscular giants didn't phase him one bit. "Unless you have other plans..." He didn't sound like he was trying to be distasteful. He was polite and congenial.

I looked, unsure to Jordan. Then, I remembered. I was an adult, a woman who was pioneering the way for women to join one of the most intense sports in the world. I'd have to handle these people alone at some point. I didn't need Jordan around all of the time to be a productive member of society. The hardest part of this lunch would be not flirting. Obviously, this man, Caspar, was gorgeous.

I smiled thinly at him. "I'd love to have lunch with you. Do you want to go now? I'm kind of hungry."

His stance didn't change, but I could see the small sign of relief in his eyes. "Yeah. That'd be great."


	11. Chapter 11

Caspar and I walked beside each other as we headed out of the airport. I had been right. He walk was very graceful and I earned some almost jealous looks from some of the girls we passed. Some guys were gaping at me as I passed them. I blushed and shrunk my shoulders, shying from the unwanted attention.

"So," he said deliberately and slowly. "I read you were born in Pittsburgh?" His voice sounded easy and relaxed.

"Yes," I said. I inhaled through my nose.

_Holy fuck._ It had to be against the law for someone to smell that good.

We had reached the door of the airport and Caspar held it for me. I smiled at him and a small, polite smile lit up his handsome features. "I was born there and lived there all of my life, except for the few months I was in Raleigh with the Hurricanes, of course."

He nodded comprehensively. I glanced up at him. He had a good four to five inches on me. He was staring straight ahead as we hailed one of those trams that took us to the parking lots. He let me go on first. I picked a seat in the middle of the bus, and we were alone in there.

"What about you?" I asked. I didn't need this to be an interrogation. If I was practically spending the afternoon with this guy, I might as well know some things about him. I decided that I wouldn't be like the other professional athletes and just answer whatever question was thrown at me. I wanted people to know my personality, not just my facts and opinions.

"I was born in New Orleans," he said. I noticed his breath hitch slightly. His eyes turned to the floor of the bus.

"Bad experience?"

"You can't even imagine," he said. I frowned, but decided not to pry.

"That sucks."

Caspar remained silent. He just nodded. He looked back up at me, his eyes conflicted. "I know you've gotten this question before. What do you think of being the first, well, I'm not even going to bother saying it. You know it already." He offered a gently smile. The bus pulled to a stop and Caspar stood up. He took my hand and helped me stand. It wasn't that my legs didn't work. He was just being a gentleman.

"It's exciting. It's pretty great to pioneer something like this. Before you ask, I don't really expect anyone to treat me differently. I'm just a rookie of rookies, if you want to look at like like that."

Caspar nodded slowly.

"I have a question for you," I said. I needed to know.

"I'm all ears."

"Why are you so gentlemanly? I've never met anyone so, and don't take offence, old-fashioned as you." We stepped off the bus and he led the way to what must have been his car.

"I was raised like that. I had to, in my situation." He stopped in front of his car. I grinned.

"A '66 Oldsmobile 442? That's awesome!" The sleek, spotless black car shone in the bright sunlight. I grinned and ran my hand over the hood. I had to imagine it in a drive in or pulling up to some gas station in western Texas.

"Thanks." Caspar grinned fully at me, his cheeks tingeing and highlighting the light wrinkles around his eyes. The man loved his car. I loved it, too. But hot _damn_ his smile was amazing.

He opened the door for me and I slid in the front seat, tossing my bag to my feet. I brushed my hand against the leather, revelling in its softness. Caspar got in beside me and revved up the engine. Some 80s hair music was playing on the radio, and Caspar reached out and turned the stereo off.

"So what's it like?" He started, pulling out of his parking space and heading for the exit.

"To be me? Well, it's really not like anything different from being a guy. I show up to practice, I take some pretty hard hits, I try to get some shots that go past Fleury or Thiesson or Johnson, and I call it a day. Everyone on the team is my friend, but there are some that I guess would be considered best friends."

"Care to elaborate on them?" We pulled onto the highway and headed toward Edmonton.

"Jordy's probably my best friend out of all of them."

"You two looked comfortable," he said. I stiffened slightly. I really hoped he hadn't gotten an idea of what might be going on between the two of us. "He's really protective of you. I thought he'd rip my head off once I asked you to do this with me."

"He did," I confirmed. Not much really scared me about Jordan, but he got extremely competitive, and it seemed to be especially around other, good-looking guys. It was almost as if he thought I'd leave him at the drop of a hat. I sighed and Caspar looked at me, his warm blue eyes conveying some sort of pain that was intensely deep. "Hey," I said. "Is there something wrong? Are you sure you're writing an article?" I felt a little stupid. I didn't even ask to see the guy's ID. He could take me back into the woods and kill me, though I wasn't really sure why he'd want to do that. "Caspar?"

Caspar ran his tongue over his lips. "I'm just thinking," he said. I furrowed my brows. "I know it's a little strange. Most people don't think the way I do, but there are a lot of things on my mind, and sometimes I can't build up dams to keep them away."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen some terrible things, Emily. But you really don't want to hear. Trust me." He shifted in his seat and pressed his foot on the pedal a little harder, accelerating the car forward. We had entered the city now. "I'm sure I'm writing an article. Look in my wallet."

I glanced down to where the worn black wallet sat in the drink holder. "I know it's not the nicest wallet in the world," he commented.

I shook my head. "It's fine." I found his ID. Sure enough, he was Caspar Laurenson, and he was a reporter.

"So," he started. He ran his tongue over his lips. "How about we just start as if we've never met. What do you like to do with your time? Other than, you know, play hockey?"

"Ah, so this is a personality interview, of sorts."

"Of sorts."

"Well, I enjoy long walks on the beach," I said. He grinned at the road. "No, but seriously, I like to talk to and meet new people, but I also am really secluded at the same time. I know, it's kind of contradictory, but I mean, I won't go out of my way to talk to and meet new people. I wouldn't go walking down the street and start talking to the old lady who shuffles by. Not like that. I mean, if I had to go to a party and my date was a big enough jerk, I'd go talk to other people."

"I guess that's normal. Anything else?"

"Mm, not really. I read sometimes. I like watching movies. I also like to cook, but I can't pay attention enough to it for it to ever work out right. I have a small attention span, sometimes."

"Any other vices I should know about?"

"_Should?_ No."

"Pulling the Mary Poppins on me, then?"

"Yep."

"Favorite color?"

"Scarlet."

Caspar's eyebrows rose.

"And yours?"

"Azzurro. It's a kind of blue. Most people don't know what it is."

"I wouldn't have thought that for a guy. Most of you just pick blue or green or some non-definitive color."

"Well, as a writer, I kind of have to be definitive, don't I?" He turned left and headed down a small street. I saw a bar up head, then a park, and some apartment buildings.

"You're taking me out to a bar?"

"Where else was I supposed to take you?" Caspar pulled up into a parking spot right between a herd of bikes and killed the 442's engine. He pulled the keys from the ignition and walked around to the other side of the car to open the door for me. I stepped out, making sure to grab my bag. I wasn't exactly dressed for a biker bar, and I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. It wasn't like I was wearing leather or anything, but then again, standing next to Caspar, I didn't really matter how I looked.

"What got you to write, Caspar?" We alighted the steps and crossed the small porch. Caspar opened the door before me and we stepped through the haze of cigarette smoke. We sat at the bar that greeted us just as we walked in.

"I needed closure and the truth."

"Closure? On what?"

"That thing that I said I couldn't tell you." He shifted uncomfortably and his piercing blue eyes met mine.

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Because this interview isn't about me, okay?" His nostrils flared and I shied away from him. A look of regret crossed his face. "If I told you, that's all you'd talk about for the rest of the time. Or you'd try to sympathize with me. No one that I know can do that except for one person. Please, let's just drop it."

"Okay."

The bartender shoved some beers our way and Caspar ordered burgers for us. He took a swig of his beer and we sat for a moment in silence.

"I'm sorry I got angry with you."

"I understand." I took a pull from my beer, too, and placed it gently on the coaster.

"Have any pets, siblings?" Caspar turned his head to look at me. That pain was in his eyes again, but I tried my best to ignore it and answered his question.

"Nope. Nothing. I have my parents, and just recently my cousin Carmen came in to PIttsburgh to visit."

"Carmen? Are you two close?"

"I guess. She's a bit more of a flirt than me. She's definitely a lot more outgoing. She's a model."

"A model? That's interesting."

"Yeah. Travel brochures, mainly. She's working up to Victoria's Secret, but off the record, I don't think she's going to make it."

Caspar raised his eyebrows in a bit of a surprise. He chuckled. It was a light sound and it was just barely audible over the loud din of rock music, similar to the stuff he was playing in the car right before we headed out. It was a really nice sound...

I mentally smacked myself. I was in love with Jordan. I mean, _really_ in love with Jordan. We needed to kiss, and soon, to seal the deal.

"Dating? Single? Complicated?"

"Definitely complicated," I said. "I'm not quite sure how that mattered."

"Hey, like I said, more of a getting to know than anything else." The burgers were brought out and placed in front of us.

"Thanks," said Caspar to the bartender. He raised his drink to his lips once more.

"Anytime, Caper."

Caspar pulled the drink from his lips quickly, almost choking on it. "Ed! Come, now! We have a lady in our presence. 'Least you can do is introduce yourself!"

"Sorry, Casper. My name's Ed," said the bartender. He stuck out a semi-dirty hand to me. I took it and we exchanged a firm handshake.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ed. I'm Emily."

"When you can tell me how this twerp got someone like you, I'll be surprised." He smiled and winked. I chuckled.

The bartender went away and I found Caspar staring at me. "Casper?"

"Well, most people forget the 'a-r' part, so I just let it go and have them call me Casper. That's my pen name, anyway. I hate having to correct people."

I nodded. "Well, I'll try to remember the 'a-r.'" I took a bite of my burger, and Caspar was still watching me.

"Are you going to eat something, or just be creepy?"

A smile crept onto Caspar's features and he took a huge bite of his burger. "I, madam," he said, his mouth full.

I cut him off by bursting into laughter. He comped a little more and swallowed thickly, taking a sip of beer to wash it down. "That was a bad idea," he said, wiping his mouth with the napkin and grinning boyishly at me.

"Yeah," I said, smiling. So much for perfectly polite.

"Anyway," he drew out the word and kept his eyes from mine, "Have they tried to play any pranks on you, yet? And be honest and serious because this is probably going to be going in the article."

"Nope. Not as far as I know. Now, I have a feeling once I get back to the hotel, I'll find something weird going on with my luggage or my room, or something, but as of right now, now."

"That's good."

"Though, if I'm honest, I think they're going to pull something soon." I grinned. That was definitely going to happen. Jordan had plenty of time to scheme.

We finished our burgers and Caspar paid. He led the way from the bar and out into the street. It was just starting to get a little dark. Caspar began walking to the park.

"Where are we going?"

The reporter turned around and opened his arms while his hands were still stuffed in his jacket pockets. "The park." He was walking backwards and he lifted his head to the area behind him. "I'm full service, Emily. Lunch and dessert." He turned around again and headed toward the park. I had to jog to catch up with him.

"This might not be a good idea," I said. Caspar looked down his nose at me. My mouth twitched in irritation. He smiled and took a few longer strides to get in front of me. He led the way to the park and headed straight for an ice cream stand.

"You do eat ice cream, don't you?" He grinned and turned around to face the teenager who was manning the booth. "Two sandwiches, please." He pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to the kid. He was handed the ice creams and handed one to me.

"I hope you like these."

"They're actually my favorite," I said. I unwrapped the sweet treat and took a bite of it. Caspar was leading us toward a bench. He sat down and I sat down beside him. His sandwich was already half-done.

"You don't wast time, do you?"

"Nope," he said with a grin. "So why did you pick hockey?" He knit his brows together and peeled down the paper. I let the tearing sound dissipate. I actually had to think about my answer.

"Hm." My voice filled the space of air between us. "I kind of fell in love with the Penguins for real when I was fifteen. My dad had taken me to games before, but I really didn't care until something inside of me just clicked. Then, I was basically rabid. All I wanted to do was hockey until I snuck out of my house one night and headed out to an ice rink. I don't even know which rink was open at ten at night. I managed to scrounge up some skates and I stepped out onto the ice.

"Needless to say, I fell flat on my face. I got back up and worked the entire night through until I could go forward ok. I managed to sneak home before my parents found out I was gone. I begged my dad to get me a pair of skates, and the day I got them, we went out into the same rink I had been at before. He was pretty surprised, and then it just took off from there. Apparently, I had a knack for it, or I wouldn't be sitting here today."

"I wouldn't have thought you to be the sneaking out type." He smiled at me and I gave him an amused look.

My phone vibrated in my bag and I pulled it out. Needless to say, the text was from Jordan. _We're gonna be heading out to dinner soon. I'll come find u. U still w that creep?_

"Jordan?" Caspar didn't look over my shoulder, and he didn't need to.

I looked at him, slightly surprised. "How did you know it was him?"

"The look on your face. He's a lucky guy, you know." Caspar's smile was far away and I felt bad for him. Maybe he liked me, but I was basically with Jordan and I couldn't really switch alliances.

I replied to Jordan, then stood up. "Do you have everything you need for the article, Mr. Laurenson?" I didn't feel comfortable calling him Caspar anymore. I felt like I had hurt his feelings, and I probably had. "I'm sorry about doing this to you. You have to understand that what's going on between me and Jordan no one really knows about outside the team, and I can't really have it come out, yet. We're not even really together, yet. Please, Caspar," that was an exception, "Don't put that in the article. I should've been better at hiding it. And if I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry."

Caspar sighed and ran a hand through his already-rowdy hair. It stuck up at more angles that seemed like they should have been more reserved for the bedroom. I mentally smacked myself. This thing with Jordan had to happen fast. I needed him to get here and take my attention away from the dark-haired man.

Speaking of the Devil, Jordan came into view just a few hundred feet away. He had changed into a regular gray t-shirt and jeans. When he saw me, he smiled and waved, then looked at Caspar, who was staring awkwardly at the two of us. He tilted his head in a way that reminded me of a lost puppy and I smiled at him.

"I guess you two haven't been formally introduced," I began. "Jordan, this is Caspar Laurenson. Caspar, this is Jordan Staal."

They exchanged greetings, but Jordan seemed a little cold, which was uncomfortable for me, due to the fact that I was used to his usually fun, boy-ish nature.

"Well, I have to go, Caspar. I'll see you later, maybe?"

"Maybe," he said. He smiled at me and watched Jordan and me walk away and out of the park.

"Have a good time getting poked and prodded?" Jordan had a hint of cynicism in his voice. I cringed at his tone. I realized the innuendo from him, too, and it made me angry.

"What are you talking about?"

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself." His nostrils flared and his jaw flexed.

"Did you really want me to have dinner, or did you want me not to be hanging out with him? I mean really, Jordan. You don't have to worry about me."

"Worry about you? I worry about him."

I frowned. "You're jealous, Jordan."

"Jealous? Yeah. I guess I'd say I'm jealous." His face contorted with an irked look. "I mean, you kind of just run off with this guy who's obviously less than ugly and I'm just supposed to be relaxed about this? What, is he going to turn into another Toews or Seguin?"

I flinched. That was unnecessary. I didn't want to say anything after that. Jordan took a left and headed toward a mass of people. It was my-our-hockey team.

"I'm not going to apologize, Jordan. It was just an interview. I am allowed to have friends, aren't I?" I raised my eyebrows at him and Jordan almost seemed to shy from me. I crossed my arms and we kept walking to the fray.

Nealer looked at the two of us and nodded quickly. Jordan stepped ahead of me and fell in stride with Sid and began talking to him. I stared after him for a moment before James blocked my vision. I brought my eyes up to his.

"Hard interview?" He looked slightly concerned. I must have had a far-away, sad look by the way he looked at me. He brought his hand up to rest it on my shoulder. He felt heavy against me, but I didn't really want to move, so I just let him gently squeeze the top of my arm.

I shook my head, tearing my eyes from his. "No. Jerk best friend."

James made a face and sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, but I glared at him. "There is nothing you can say, James. He's just a possessive asshole."

Nealer flinched and put his hands up in surrender. He backed off and rejoined his teammates.

The Toews and Seguin comments were unnecessary.

_Hi. Are you busy?_ My phone vibrated and when I pulled it from my bag, that was what the text said. It was from Jonny. My mood lifted just a little bit and I quickly replied.

_Not really. I'm about to have dinner with the team._

_How's the boyfriend?_

_Not good today. He's being kind of an ass._

_Hm. An ass? Has to be Crosby. I didn't think you were the type. smh._ I read the text and smiled. Everyone had just started to head inside, and I was soon to follow.

_Nope. Not him._

_Geno? Nealer?_

No./i I looked up and took in the scene. The guys were all sitting around the table stealing each other's napkins and silverware. They were like a pack of five year olds. I smiled and Neal looked at me, a light in his eyes.

"Want some pictures?" He said jestingly. I pulled out my phone and aimed it at his face. He bugged his eyes and stuck his tongue out. I took the candid shot and grinned.

"What a lovely mug."

He bowed his head and wiped the smile off his face. It was replaced by a calm, pleasant look. In only a few seconds, it turned into a smirk as a pair of muscular arms wrapped around my torso.

I nearly dropped my phone as I was lifted up. My captor grunted and stepped forward to plop me down heavily beside Marc. He had a mischievous grin and almost immediately I looked up to see who had taken me and forced me into a chair.

"Geno!" I smacked him as he sat down, panting. He elbowed me back.

"You kick hard," he said in his defense of his mouth breathing. I shook my head, simpering. These guys were the best. We were all handed our menus and I scanned mine. The place was nice, and I ordered chicken parm, one of my favorites.

_Jordan._

I looked at Tazer's number for a while, sighing. I wasn't sure if I should lie to him or not. I decided not to answer and I turned my phone off. Fleury peered over my arm and raised his eyebrows as I put the phone back into my bag.

"Too hot of a text?" I raised my eyes to meet his. He was smirking.

"You wish." I felt heat rise up in my cheeks. "I think I know who this is about," he said confidently. i shot him a glare and he raised his eyebrows at me.

My eyes moved back to my lap and I toyed with my hands, not really thinking about much of anything. The waitress brought out our break and drink orders.

I wrapped my fingers around my glass of water when I saw Sid stand up and hold his drink up. He looked directly at me and my jaw flexed with anticipation. He smiled wryly and me and I really wanted to smack him. I wasn't in the mood.

"Guys, I'd like to dedicate tonight to Emily. Welcome to the team. We're all excited to have you with us. To Emily!"

"To Emily," came the chorus. We took sips of our drinks and my cheeks heated up once more.

"What's wrong?" Malkin nudged my shoulder once I set my glass down. I looked at him and his dark eyes scanned my face. He looked quite concerned. "You no talk." He pulled his lip to the side in what looked like half of a frown. "I have to beat someone down?"

"Beat him up," I correct.

"Who I beat up?" His eyes changed to represent protection.

"No one, no one, Geno," I smiled at the thought of Jordan's face hitting the pavement. Not because he was receiving pain, but because it would be funny, so funny later.

"Sure? I no kill?"

I snorted in good humor. "No one's going to die."

"I make you really laugh."

Fleury started to make kissing noises in my direction. I turned around and shot him a look that he almost cringed at. He tried to offer me a sheepish smile, but failed as I continued to stare at him.

All of a sudden, I felt the press of soft, chapped lips against my jaw. I nearly froze, and I whirled around and those lips moved just a bit to touch my own. I just stared at Geno, totally shocked. I heard half of the table go dead silent and someone down the way, probably, _oh dear God_, Jordan, choked on his water. "Di-did you j-just...?"

"I do something wrong?" His brows knitted together and I just continued to stare at him.

"I have to..." I stood up and walked as quickly as I could to the bathroom. I immediately whipped out my phone and turned it on, propping myself up on the sink counter. I completely ignored Jonny's text and I sent him a new one.

_Help!_

_What? What's wrong?_

_Geno just kissed me._

_That's a bad thing?_

_YES! VERY BAD._

_Ok calm down. Where are you?_

_A team dinner in Edmonton._

_You're texting at the table?_

_Lord, no. I'm in the bathroom._

_You're texting me in the bathroom? I didn't think you..._

_Shut up. Now's not the time, ass!  
><em>_  
>You're calling me ass while sitting in the bathroom. Emily, this may not be the soundest of plans. So why don't you just make it official with the guy, cuz it obviously isn't Geno.<em>

_Obviously?_

_Yeah. You're not a teenager ___

_Perv_

_Slut_

_ No seriously. What am I going to do?_

_Sorry about that. He wasn't too offensive, or anything?_

_Who? What? No...Geno was fine._

_No. Oh ok. Kaner took my phone._

_Patrick Kane?_

_Yeah...:\_

_I see. So...I just told him about my universe right now._

_Oh, he's known. Before you explode, we're best friends. What did you expect? He's a nosy little bastard, too._

_Punch him. Tell him it's from me._

_He might take that promiscuously._

_I don't care._

_Punched._

_So what am I going to do?_

_Head back out there, act like nothing happened. What are you supposed to do? You turned off your phone after I put Jordan, so it has to be him. It's not like you can head over there and sit on his lap. You need to survive the dinner, and then head over to the game, and then you'll be good. Speaking of games..._

_Am I holding you up?_

_A little bit. Kaner's trying to take my phone again._

_Put it in a place he wouldn't dare or think to look.  
><em>_  
>There's no such place.<em>

_TMI._

_Well, I have to go. Talk to you later?_

_Yeah. Later. I'll tell you if anyone's hospitalized._

_You do that, as long as it's not yourself._

_He's not..._

_You never know._

I looked at my phone. He couldn't, could he? Jordan wouldn't get that mad, could he?

There was a timid knock on the door and my head snapped up. I hopped off the counter and glided over to the door. I pulled it open just a little bit, and the other pair of sea green eyes met mine. A small smile was on James's lips

"Can I come in?"

"Has Jordan killed anyone yet?" I pulled the door open and let James into the girls bathroom. Something about this felt a little wrong, but right now, I needed someone to tell me that Jordan wasn't going to kill anyone.

"Not yet. His hair stood up a little more, though."

"Not funny."

"Yes, it was. You just don't want to admit it." James made a pouting face and stuck his bottom lip out at me. He batted his eyelashes at me. "They just served our meals-"

"James," I interrupted. I didn't look at him. I didn't have eyes to. "I need you to tell me something."

"Anything, Em."

My eyebrows scrunched together for just a moment. "I need you to tell me that everything's going to be okay. Something feels off, and I can't quite place it, but I'm having doubts about all of this."

"You said it yourself. There's a reason you're here. I really hope you're not the type to lie to yourself. You're way too important. You're way too good to lie to yourself like that. You really are meant to do this. I could feel it when you stepped on the ice those months ago."

"You mean that? I mean, it would be so easy to just pass me off as a slut, not deserving of anything like this."

"Oh, my God," he said. His arms wrapped around me and our bodies became flush with each other. His arms hooked around my sides and his hands rested on my shoulders. My nose was buried in his shoulder and our hips were nearly smashed together. "Don't you ever say that again, Emily." We shared body heat for a few more moments, and then he released me. We stared at each other for a few more moments, James licking his bottom lip, as if he felt awkward. "You ready to head back out there?"

I nodded, but I still didn't feel one hundred percent. I wanted to believe him, but with Caspar and how jealous he made Jordan, and the whole weird 'everyone likes me' thing, and how-. My brain stopped. James's hand was poised right on the handle of the door. He was looking at me as if I had just scored a goal, but he wasn't allowed to celebrate with me. His eyes looked far away, but happy, and his stance was a little dejected. It was almost as if I was something he couldn't have.

"Are you okay?" James was silent as he stared at me some more. He slowly nodded and ran his tongue over his lips again. He masked a movement, but not before I detected it. Finally, he resolved to open the door and lead me out and back into the restaurant.

I looked at Jordan as soon as I could lay eyes on him. He was watching me, and eyed James warily. His eyes beckoned me over to him, and I obliged.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Can I talk to you for a second, please?" He squinted in the dark light and stood up, holding my arm gently. "Alone?" His voice was so gentle, and I really looked into his eyes. I nodded at him and a hint of a smile licked at his lips.

We walked out of the restaurant, across the street and into the park. It was almost entirely dark, and the team should actually be heading out to the arena quite soon.

"Shouldn't you be heading out?" I touched his arm and he flinched away from me, as if I had hurt him. "Jordan, you were the one who wanted to talk to me. Don't shy away from me like this."

"His face twitched unpleasantly when he turned his face to me. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I didn't want to seem possessive or anything. The truth is, I've never been with anyone-"

"This isn't a movie, Jordan. This is real life. Obviously, you've never been with me before. No one really has, and maybe no one ever really will."

"What?"

"I'm a closed person, Jordan. I'm kind of surprised you never really noticed before."

"Closed?" His brows drew closer together and his mouth hung open a little bit in confusion. It was cute, but I wasn't in the mood to point it out. He flattened his already-flat hair and I sighed.

"Yeah. Sometimes, it's kind of hard for me to talk to people about romantic kind of stuff and make any kind of moves. I don't really know why, but I'm really one of those girls who expect a guy to know I like him because I tell them with my eyes. I can have a dozen conversations with one person and think I know them, but then I realize that the person's responses were all something I made up in my head. I've kissed dozens of people, this way, even had sex with a few."

"Emily..." The question of if I'd done this with him was in his voice.

"Yes." It was true. It was the worst on the plane as we were coming to Edmonton. I wanted to do some things so badly that I felt almost feral.

Jordan nodded. "So I'm not the only one with issues."  
>I smirked. "We all have something weird with all of us."<p>

"I never noticed until now."

"I guess I did a good job." I offered him a weak smile. The light changed on Jordan's face and we both looked up to where the door was opened and the team was filing out of the restaurant, joking and jesting and shoving each other as if the man next to me hadn't been fuming moments ago.

"Did you actually yell at Geno?"

"I yelled at myself for being angry with you for going around with Caspar, and I was mad that Geno kissed you and it wasn't me." I couldn't read his expression, and my eyes nearly begged him to kiss me, but he didn't see it or ignored it, and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. He leaned in close, his lips brushing my cheek and ear. "I have to go with the guys. I'll get you a cab back to the hotel. You get changed into something nice, and I'll see you after the game, OK?"

"You know I'll see you before that," I commented. I had already gone over with Dan that I would observe in the media box for the game, and then we'd talk tomorrow about what I was going to do and whose place I was going to take against the Capitals.

"Yeah, I know." He winked. "I'll score a goal for you, alright?"

"We're not in high school, Jordan," I said, sticking my bottom lip out at him.

"I know. That's not going to stop me, though," he said. Jordan planted a light kiss on my neck and stood up. He took my hand and led me up with the rest of the guys.

James was the first, as usual, to find my eyes, and I smiled reassuringly at him. He nodded and offered up a half-smile. Jordan let go of my hand once we joined the group. There was no doubt in my mind that he would get made fun of for his from his teammates, but I didn't think he'd care.

Jordan hailed a cab helped me inside of it. I rolled down the window as soon as he closed the door for me. "I'll see you later, Em." He smiled at looked really, really adorable in the low light of the street. He told the cabbie the address, and I waved to him as the cab drew me into the winding streets of Edmonton.


	12. Chapter 12

_Everything's ok,_ I texted Jonny. _How was your game?_ I was in the hotel, now. It was a nice place with cookies at the front desk and decent sized bottles of shampoo and soap in the bathroom. I had dropped my stuff at the foot of my queen-sized bed. I was to be staying by myself for social reasons, which I actually found a little awkward, but it was nice to get a little bit of a breather for a while.

I jumped into the shower first. My mind wandered to what I had told Jordan. My ex, Donny, had really gotten to me, which explained why I had told him about my issues with opening up. I had met him at a party my senior year in high school. He seemed like an honest guy. He was one of the few guys who didn't drink and wasn't banging the first girl he saw. I was in a similar boat.

Then, we started dating. He was nice and loving and romantic, pretty much everything I wanted in a guy. However, he was kind of a bump on a log. Then, there was the night after the Goo Goo Dolls concert. Donny took me home and we had started making out. One thing led to another, and the next morning we were two totally different people. He was angry and dramatic and I felt like the world had just collapsed around me.

After that, my life transferred completely to hockey. I made the hockey team and some names got mentioned, putting me on the list for a possibility of being on the NHL draft in my second year in hockey. Our team won the championship the year before I was drafted, and now here I am, taking a shower in a rather nice hotel and my thoughts are moving to a blond hockey god.

I rinsed out my hair and stepped out of the shower. I snatched a towel, drying myself off, and I checked my phone. Jonny hadn't replied yet. I got changed and grabbed my bag. I managed to root out my MP3 player and found my favorite pre-game song as I headed out of the hotel room.

The guitar started out and I grinned to myself. I recalled rocking out in my room before any hockey game that I played or Penguin game I watched. It was kind of my hockey theme song.

_"Woah, oh, oh sweet child of mine!"_ I mouthed, pretending for just a moment that I was alone in my bedroom, this song blasting from my speakers and me leaning back in my chair, air-drumming. The man at the front desk looked at me strangely, but I just smiled at him.

I walked out of the hotel and moved down to the street. There was a horde of people who were heading out to a specific location. Most of them were in Oilers gear and didn't give me a second glance. I smiled to myself.

"Ma'am," came a some-what familiar voice. I turned around and found Caspar standing right there. "I presume you're heading to the game?"

"Yeah," I replied, smiling at him.

"And Jordan's not going to kill me?" He smiled teasingly.

"No." I took a step in stride with him, joining the throng that was heading toward the arena. "How'd you know I was here?"

"It's where all of the hockey teams stay."

"I should have figured that out," I said, smiling.

We continued walking in silence. I pulled my headphones out so I was easy to talk to, if Caspar wanted to talk to me. I shoved them into my bag and checked my phone. No reply from Tazer or Pat, so one or the other or both were out someplace or still playing their game, which was probably the most likely answer. I was now starting to get some looks as we got closer to the arena. Some of them were appreciative and excited, others were on the loathing side. I thought the loathing ones were the more exciting. It was a type of energy that would be easy to feed off of. I sighed and Caspar looked down at me, his piercing eyes caressing my face.

"You're excited?"

"I actually know the people who are playing. They're my friends. It's like if I were injured at home in college or high school, but without the frustration that I can't physically play. That wasn't the best analogy. Sorry."

Caspar smiled anyway. "So, you'll be up in the media box? Do you want to sit with me?"

"I'd like to, if that's possible."

"I'm pretty sure they'd let you sit on the goal posts, if you asked nicely." He grinned and flashed his reporter pass, and I pulled out my VIP pass and followed him up to the media box. We skirted past the large group of fans who were heading to the concourse to get food or to their seats. Caspar found the elevator and we got inside. He pressed the top-most floor level and the elevator lurched as we headed upward.

We stood in silence on the way up. Excitement was radiating from me, and I felt slightly concerned for tomorrow's game and how euphoric I would be. I bounced happily on the balls of my feet and Caspar chuckled.

"You're like a little kid."

"I might as well be. It's not like this isn't one of the most exciting things I've experienced. I only went to one away game, ever, and that was against the Blackhawks when my family was on vacation."

"So you're experiencing the grandeur all by your lonesome."

"Pretty much." I looked up at him, smiling. We walked past a security guard who seemed to recognize us, so we weren't stopped. Caspar led the way to one of the media boxes and we had a seat. I could see the entirety of the ice. There was still about ten minutes until the start of the warm-ups.

_Just finished. Wanted to tell you ASAP. You started yet?_

_No. We haven't even done warm-ups. Have I told you about Caspar?_

_Caspar? Guess not. ___

_I'll have to when I get back from the game. You win?_

_Yeah. Bounces went our way tonight. Next game is against you.  
><em>_  
>Me. Yes. Though I doubt I'll actually play against you.<em>

_You'll know if you do._

_I might have to go fight Kaner._

_You might. I'll talk to him and get him all riled up. Then again, he is playing a girl. That gets him fired up all by itself._

_Haha._

My team skated out onto the ice. Caspar looked from my phone to me, and then out into the ice. "I'm going to get something to eat. Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No, thanks. I get too excited for these, anyway to eat or drink anything."

"OK. I'll be back." Caspar stood up and moved down the hallway. I watched my teammates skate around the ice, and my eyes slowly found Jordan. He was kind of hard to see being so far away, but he was still one of the biggest guys on the ice. I saw him scanning the stands for me, and his head was turned in my general direction. I waved, but I wasn't really sure that he saw me. Nealer skated up next to him and said something, and Jordan looked back down onto the ice, took a puck, and flicked it into the empty goal. I grinned at him and glanced at my phone.

_I just turned the TV on. They're talking about you, and you're looking at your phone right now._

_Weird. I'll look up, now._

I scanned the ice again. Cookie was dishing out pucks for everyone and dodging as shots were fired into the goal. I smiled at the team, even though they didn't see me.

_Much better. This is Pat. Jonny didn't think I'd take his phone when he went to the bathroom __ How are you?_

_I'm good, Pat._

_Hey, I was wondering. You have Skype?_

_Yeah. I haven't used it since I got drafted, though. College friends are probably wondering why I've fallen off the face of the personal world._

_Wanna make yourself known tonight? I'm hanging with Jonny tonight. We could chat._

_Maybe. I don't know what the team's gonna do._

_Well, if you're free, shoot us a text._

_Will do. BTW, there is no way a man takes that long in the bathroom. Give it back to him, or get yourself out of the bathroom.  
><em>_  
>He's actually pounding on the door. Am I really that bad, though?<em>

_No. I just want to talk to him._

_They're talking about your boyfriend._

_He's not my boyfriend._

_Not yet. Believe me, sugar. The time will come._

Caspar had returned with his food and a beer. He sat himself next to me and glanced curiously to my phone. "You have friends?"

"Yes," I replied incredulously. A few from college, but they're not who I'm talking to."

"You went to college?" Caspar looked back out onto the ice as the teams headed back into the locker rooms.

"Yep. Pitt. But I never graduated. I was in for pol sci."

"Seriously? You?"

"Eh...I was right about to switch to archives. I was kind of indecisive as a child and teenager. I just wanted to play hockey."

"Well, I guess you got your wish." A rueful smile flashed across his face. My mouth twitched. I wasn't so sure I wanted to know what he was thinking about. It was what he couldn't tell me, but I felt bad that he couldn't tell anyone.

"Really, Caspar-"

"Call me Cas."

"Cas, you can tell me. I swear I won't say a word." I touched his shoulder and I felt him flinch, but he didn't break contact. The teams skated out again as we sat in silence and Caspar watched them line up for the national anthems.

"Not today. Not tomorrow. It's not something I just tell people. It's a big part of me and I want people to know me for me, not my experience. Let's just watch the game." Cas leaned forward and his blue eyes scanned the eyes. They showed detachment as they absently watched my friends skate around the ice.

We stood for the national anthems and I sang along with the Star Spangled Banner. O Canada ended and the lights came up. Caspar and I sat back down and he took a sip from his beer.

_Are you a good singer?_ I didn't know if it was Kane or Toews, but it didn't really matter. Geno lined up with Shawn Horcoff. Geno won the face off and Nealer took it from there. We headed down the ice toward the Oilers end. James crossed the ice and popped it to Kunitz, who was on the opposite side, then to Geno in the middle, who took a shot. Dubnyk made a simple-looking butterfly save, trapping the puck between his pads. The crowd clapped appreciatively and Jordan hopped onto the line with Steve Sullivan and Duper. Michalek and Orpik were the D-men. Jordan lost the face off and we were forced to retreat to our end. The Oilers made some pretty passes but didn't make a shot on goal due to Michalek clearing it. Icing was called, despite Dupuis fighting for his life to get the puck, and we were brought back to the left circle in the Pens end.

_Not really. Just some national pride. You ought to understand. By the way, who is this?_

I stopped paying attention for a little bit as I tried to find Jordan. I watched the little eleven skate around behind the Oilers net. Duper passed to him, but was intercepted and as we headed back down the ice, both sides took a line change.

_Pat. IDK where Jonny went._

_I ought to teach him some responsibility with his personal items. Did he tell you about New Years?_

I groaned loudly as Matt Cooke took a hard shot to the shoulder. Caspar, who was very quiet and focused, looked at me with a small smile on his face. I tried to darken my eyes but failed. I refocused my attention to the ice. Sid was on with Geno and James. Letang and Martin hung as our D-men. Crosby had the puck and was working a two-on-one. In a Mario-esque way, he split the defensemen, making it him and Dubnyk against the world.

Sid beat him easily, taking it up high as he went down low. I jumped to my feet and cheered loudly. Cas got to his feet slowly, applauding. My smile shone brightly from where I stood. About a fifth of the crowd was on their feet cheering with me. The cheering died down as we lined up for the face off. I settled back into my seat, still smiling, and looked at Cas.

As my adrenaline waned, I was curious as to why he seemed so reluctant to get immersed into the game. "So you do this often, don't you?" I leaned forward and folded my hands over the railing of the box. I did a quick scan for Jordan before focusing back on the puck.

"Yeah."

"Alright. I was wondering why you don't really get into it. Or maybe you're truly an Oilers fan." I winked and smiled.

Back down on the ice, I watched Sid get flattened. I got to my feet, yelling to express my displeasure. Caspar was looking at me with a bemused smirk on his face.

"I can see it in your face. You radiate with the love of this game."

I smiled and took my seat. These guys were my friends. They were the most important thing in my life right now. I had to watch them and learn how to make a name for myself. It was crucial to do so. "I guess so."

"This is more than guesswork. It's kind of wonderful."

"Really?" I toyed with a piece of hair absently watching what was going on on the ice. Edmonton was putting a lot of pressure on Fluery. I sighed as the arena erupted when the puck slipped past Flower and into the next.

"Oh, you don't even realize." He inched closer to me and put his hand on the armrest. "You're eyes light up like nobody's business. You're entirely engrossed in the game and it's fascinating to watch. I haven't seen anyone so ardent about anything." Caspar's eyes were slightly widened in admiration as he scanned my face, a wondrous smile on his lips.

A whistle sounded loudly and the red light when on at the penalty box initiating the TV time out. The ice crew skated out and shoveled up the snow that had accumulated from the on-ice activities. Dan was calmly explaining strategy to the team and they all looked at him as if he were a math teacher leading them through a tough problem.

Jordan took a sip of water and headed out onto the ice with Duper and Matt. Kris and Zbynek were on defence. Duper won the faceoff and headed down to Edmonton, but they took the puck away at the center line and hurtled back toward our end, shooting. Fluery made a quick glove save and held onto it to cause another face off in Penguin ice. This time, Edmonton won it and took another shot, which ricochet off of Flower and to the near boards. Jordan rushed to get it and dodged through a sea of people to get a breakaway.

I rose to my feet, eyes wide and willing him to score the goal.

Jordan pulled it far out and then back in, bobbling the puck back and forth on his stick before flicking his wrist and going topside over Dubnyk.

"Yeah!" I threw my hands up in the air and grinned widely at him, even though he couldn't see me.

Caspar didn't really say much during the rest of the period. No one else scored. There was some shoving between Nisky and Taylor Hall over a non-called penalty after the buzzer. The refs pulled them apart and everyone headed toward the locker rooms amidst an energized crowd.

_Nice period, there._

_Thanks. This is?_

_Toews. I've reclaimed it and told Pat he could come back when he wanted to keep his leg hairs._

_Captain Serious, eh?_

_That's me ___

_Guess we have to take it in stride surrounded by so many kids._

It's been ages since I've talked to you people. I'm sure some of you are happy that I haven't been around, but the whole 'kids' comment was only realized to cause one of my best friends to flinch. I had nearly forgotten about the New Years kiss and the fact that he would have wanted more than a lot of things to be my boyfriend. The poor kid had told Kaner all about it and the blonde had to sympathize, being the good friend and all. There's some pretty obvious stuff coming in the next few chapters that discourages him completely, but up until then, poor Jonny had a thought in the back of his mind (he flat out told me just recently) that he still might have had a chance.

_Uh..._

_Oh. Awkward._

_Yeah. Especially considering you were texting me in the bathroom._

_I had no other choice. James only came in later._

_I don't think I wanted to know that. You and Neal in the bathroom?_

_I know. It doesn't sound the most chaste._

_No. It doesn't._

_Where else was I supposed to hide? No one else would follow me inside._

_Seems legit._

_Thank you. ___

_I see you've skated out. They just finished interviewing Jordan._

_That's nice. I'll talk to you later._

_Make sure you talk to your buddy. Cas, right? Caspar?_

_Yeah. I will._

This time, I literally turned my phone off.

"May I ask whom you were talking to?" Cas turned to me, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah. Jonny Toews, and sometimes Pat Kane."

"Oh. Fraternizing with the other team?" His eyes softened and he had a cool look about him, as if he were totally relaxed. The color in his eyes intensified with the humor of his comment.

"Pretty much." I smiled and leaned back in the chair. Caspar's eyes scanned my body and the corner of his mouth turned up. He stared at my face and I stared at him for a while and then transferred my attention back to the ice. The feeling of Cas's eyes on me caused blood to rush to my face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you blush." He sat back up in his seat and his gaze slowly followed mine. I was watching Jordan skate gracefully through a pack of our teammates. "You're just..."

I shot him a leveling glare. It wasn't that I didn't want a compliment. I was afraid of spending time alone with him while his feelings were hanging around in the air.

Caspar flinched and I almost regretted my chastisement, but I didn't need him telling me anything. It wasn't that I knew. I loved compliments as much as the next person, but I didn't want to accept it because he couldn't like me. I'd known him for a few hours and now he wanted to be flattering. I guess it sounded hypocritical because that was exactly what Jordan had done, but I couldn't control him. I was barely even paying attention with Jonny. I know. Excuses, excuses.

I considered apologizing, but then that would probably make it worse. I just dropped it right then and there. He didn't need to apologise, either. The poor man had probably seen enough as it was.

"Ah, fuck it," He said, leaning forward. "Fuck all of it. It's been seven years. I should be able to tell the story now."

"What are you-"

"Shush." I closed my mouth and stared at him. "This isn't for you to feel sorry. I did some thinking during the intermission." Speaking of, I glanced down to the ice and found nothing had really changed. The Pens had taken a few shots, as well as the Oilers, and I would have heard if anything came of it. "I'm twenty-five years old. I was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. My mother was half-Cajun, my father was some odd mix of Russian, Irish, and Cajun as well. I grew up a good little Catholic boy, as typical for someone with my kind of ethnic background. My father met my mother straight from the bayou when he got lost on the way down for a job. He was a contractor. My mother worked in a BP. One thing led to another and they ended up in New Orleans, my mother a cabaret singer and my father a prosperous man, both of them living out their dreams.

Then came me. I always wanted to be a writer and I grew up doing odd jobs for our neighbor who was a reporter. I did that until I was eighteen." Caspar's jaw hardened. "I didn't have any siblings, save for the little girl next door who was about five years old. She's the prettiest little girl I've ever seen. Her parents were the great-grandchildren of slaves who worked on the same plantation, and Lord does Melissa have a voice. I always tell her she reminds me of my mother. But you remember. In 2005 the hurricane came, and I guess it's obvious my family didn't leave.

When the levees broke and flooded the entire town, my house was right in the path. It got totally destroyed. I honestly don't know how I survived it, or how Melissa ended up in my room from the house over practically unscathed. The last thing I remember of my mother and father is them screaming at me to get away, to run, and then the wave came."

Caspar was silent for a while. He swallowed thickly and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Now that I looked at him, it made sense with his ethnic background, his smooth, lazy way of speaking, and that accent I couldn't quite place: Cajun, Louisianan, and Canadian all rolled into one. But oh, dear God. The poor man! I found myself reaching out to him and my hand resting lightly on his back. I felt him press into me as he breathed and released a deep sigh. "Hey, you were brave."

"But I wasn't. When I came to, there was a girl sopping wet in my room. I called out for my parents and from my window I could see the carnage. It was as if our street was the highway for the apocalypse and we were the cockroaches that survived the nuclear blast." He looked so self-loathing as he tensed even more. "I couldn't save them." He pounded his fist roughly on the railing and I felt emotion well up inside of me as I sat up straight.

"I curled up into a ball in the corner, praying nothing else would come. The fires broke out. Someone came to the house and left my parents bodies on the front porch. Emily, do you know what it's like to have a five year old clinging to your neck while you try to bury your folks? They had garbage trucks coming around, Emily, as if your parents were a piece of unwanted furniture. They knew not everyone would be able to afford it, so the government just put them all together. They did nothing.

So I took Melissa and my dad's barely salvageable 442 Olds and I fucking left. I couldn't stay in the Superdome. It was full and I was hard-working kid. As soon as they had cleared off the roads, I was out of there. Melissa slept in the back seat while I salvaged. I stole things, but it didn't matter. People understood. No one was going to press charges or anything. I had a kid that wasn't even my own and I had just gotten my license. I was young and my family was dead. The entire south was ravaged. My home was torn out from under me."

Caspar sighed and tugged frantically at his wild brown locks. They had seemed to darken to black and his eyes were shining midnight blue orbs that engulfed me when I wrapped my arms around him. "Christ, Cas, I had no idea."

"I know you didn't. I don't usually tell people this on the first day. It still pisses me off. That's why I write, you know. So I can tell the story without anyone sugar coating, so I can expose it all, not just the little impersonal bits." A cynicism had grown in his voice that I hadn't heard before.

The buzzer sounded for the end of the second period. There was no score change. The Pens were still up two to one. I had barely watched any of the second period and I felt slightly guilty, as if I had failed at doing my job. But I hated hearing what Cas had to say. It made me mad and his story honestly ripped me up. I had seen pictures and video of people who had lost their relatives and loved ones, but I'd never met anyone who had been there. I remember watching on TV and thinking how terrible it was. I guessed Caspar was eighteen at the time, and I was sixteen. How he handled it like he did was remarkable. I would have been totally dysfunctional.

"I can't begin to understand where you're coming from, but if you need to talk to anyone, I'm here." I picked up my bag and rooted around for a piece of paper and a pen. I jotted down the number and handed it to him. "Really, if you need anything at all."

"You're not going to be like the social services lady and not live up to that, are you?"

"I couldn't, Cas."

He nodded and shoved the paper into his jacket pocket. "Thank you. You're the first person to do that. Most people just run away. They think I'm angry and lonely and a hoarder. I've been working on coming back to my old self. There aren't going to be any hurricanes in Edmonton. Melissa's safe with me and she barely remembers any of it. I don't want her to know, if you get what I'm saying."

I nodded. "You're amazing, Caspar."

"So are you."

His hand rested on mine and this time, I didn't pull away.


	13. Chapter 13

The Penguins had won! I grinned widely and stood from my chair and Caspar and I walked to the elevator. We were the only two in the elevator as it made its rapid descent.

"Nice game."

"Yeah..." Caspar gave a deep sigh and fidgeted. We stood in silence for a moment. "Emily, I know you like Jordan. You're practically dating him." He stopped. I waited him to say more, but he just stood there and stared at the elevator doors. We have five more floors to the bottom.

"Cas, I'm leaving tomorrow. This isn't-"

"I know."

Caspar turned to me and edged a little closer. He walked toward me and I walked back slowly and clumsily until my back hit the stainless steel rail and the wall. "But I can't bring myself to give a damn."

Caspar's face tilted those extra inches to catch my lips with an opened-mouth kiss.

Jordan Staal sat in the locker room, sweat pouring off his body as if someone had just thrown a bucket over him. His chest expanded and contracted rapidly. He was happy and he was tired. It was normal after a win for him to be panting harder than a dog and about as happy as a baby.

"Nice goal, Staalsy," said Dan in passing. A chorus of agreement pulsed through the room and Jordan smiled his thanks.

"You did it for Emmy, didn't you?" Fluery jibed between his sweat-soaked locks.

"Screw you," said Jordan as catcalls erupted through the room. The entire room knew about him and Emily and about the kiss they shared on Emily's first game. Sid gave him complements for working fast. Kris had stared in slight bewilderment, and James wouldn't look at him for a while. That was weird for him. James didn't seem to be the kind to really react to much of anything, and him liking Jordan's soon-to-be girl was not Nealer's style.

Jordan knew what they were planning for Mustache Boy. He wasn't necessarily a fan of it and it would require a lot of things to go right. Emily would have to beat Flower and so would he. Everyone else would have to get out, but they all knew more about the plan than he did. He hoped she was okay with the consequence of losing, which is what was going to happen. It wasn't like she could do anything about it, either.

"Can't blame you," said Cooke. "She's into you. Certainly nice and pretty enough. I'd imagine she's smart, too."

"Certainly not stupid," said James carefully. "She concerned about this." He gestured to the surrounding area. "Sometimes she's not so sure about how to handle it."

Jordan looked up at James with a careful stare. What was he talking about. "When did she talk to you?"

"Well, when you get pissed, who's she going to talk to? I didn't see anyone going after her."

"You went into the girl's bathroom?" When Jordan asked it, he had an edge in his voice. Dan had stopped in the doorway, pen and clipboard in hand, giving the room a disapproving look over his glasses as the rest of the room asked it with wonder or promiscuity in their voices.

"James," said Jordan. "You followed my girlfriend into the bathroom." He was happy that Dan knew about this and was for the most part cool about it as long as it didn't interfere with what was going on on the ice.

James ran his tongue over his lips, obviously trying to pick his words carefully.

"He just got confused," said Fleury after an awkward pause. "Or maybe he was just doing what he normally does. Gotta to go the girl's room cause he's a girl."

Nealer shot him an extremely grateful look and Jordan still pressed his leveling glare on him for a while.

"I'm sorry, Jordan," said James after a moment and after the laughing died down. Coach Bylsma huffed a mildly relieved sigh and walked out of the room, shaking his head and writing game notes on his clipboard.

Conversation became less dramatic and James sat down next to Kris. Both men were fixing their ties to leave the arena. The ice crew would pick up their stuff and put it on a plane for when they woke up too early the next morning and headed down to D.C. to play the Caps in Emily's first game in the franchise. Everyone seemed excited to have her join the team.

"You want to go for a drink?" Asked Kris. He stood up and straightened out his shirt. He looked down at his friend. "Dude, I know you like the suit, but it's ugly as hell."

James pouted slightly and stood. "Oh, well."

Kris shook his head and a smile lit up his face. "I'll have to take you up on that drink, though," he admitted.

"Good." Kris led the way out of the locker room and into the main lobby. They pushed open the doors and walked out into the chilly night.

James pulled out his phone and turned it on. The bright light cast dark shadows over his face. Kris looked curiously over at what he was doing.

"Quit peeping," James said flatly. Kris's eyebrows rose and he chuckled.

"Peeping?"

"You know what I mean," he said in the same flat tone.

No one had texted him and the time read to be about eleven. They headed for the bus which was parked at the end of the parking lot. There were a few more cars left in the parking lot. Probably media.

I felt my breasts pressed against his chest. His hands squeezed my hips tenderly and his lips felt insanely soft against my own. Caspar's fingers danced up my spine and the flat of his hand rested against the clasp of my bra.

The elevator _dinged_ and he flew off me as if I were burning. His tie was out of place and his hair more disheveled than ever. I stared at him, panting. He swallowed thickly. We walked out of the elevator. I knew my lips were bruised.

Most of the people had cleared out by now and there were about ten people left in the lobby. I considered breaking off to go find my teammates, but Caspar gave me a hungry look and grabbed my hand.

"Caspar!" I stared at him as he pulled me out into the parking lot and across the mass of asphalt. We found a (what we hoped to be) abandoned car and he shoved me against it. His features looked ominous. His eyes were shrouded in darkness almost as if they weren't there. His lips hungrily met mine.

"What the fuck?" Caspar sucked at my lip before breaking away.

"Oh, fuck." Caspar looked from the speaker to me. Unfortunately, I too knew the voice.

I didn't need confirmation, but I turned to look at him, anyway. Kris was physically restraining James, who looked like he was going to kill Cas and drag me straight to Jordan to explain to him exactly what I had done.

"Shit," I muttered. Kris was staring at me as if I had sprouted three extra heads. "Cas..."

"'I'm going to go now." Cas touched my arm carefully and turned and retreated, taking calculated, cautious, stiff steps. He was the entire way across the street before Kris let James go and I took my eyes off him.

"What-how-Em-I-" James sputtered incoherently. "What were you thinking?"

Kris gave me a cautious look. "Easy, Nealer."

I just stared at him. "I'm not going to offer an excuse. It's not going to matter, anyway."

"Save your sob story, Emily. I don't want to hear it."

"You're not going to tell-"

"You bet I will. I don't trust myself to deal with this. You don't tease someone like you tease Jordan and then have the stupidity to get caught with your panties off and your tongue half-way down some near-stranger's throat."

"My panties are firmly intact, thank you."

"I wouldn't say so."

"That's enough, James," said Kris. I started when I looked at him. His dark eyes were boring holes into the back of James's head. "Calm down. We don't need to blow this all out of proportion."

"It's a pretty fucking huge proportion, Tanger."

Kris just blinked and stared at the two of us. James's thumb twitched at his side and I took a step back from the two of them.

"I think I'm going to walk back."

"You're running away? After you've come this far?" Said James cynically. "Why don't you get the whole damn thing done with eleven anyway? What are you waiting for? We all know. It's kind of obvious. He even squeaked on the kiss and how you showed up at his place in skin tight jeans and a shirt he couldn't wait to-"

"Shut. The _fuck_. Up, Nealer." Jordan stood behind the two in a gray suit. He was staring at me with a questioning gaze. "I don't know what happened, but you don't talk in that tone of voice to Emily. Ever. I don't care what she's done."

"Oh, really?"

Kris's eyes went wide and he took a step toward the bus. Jordan didn't even have to look to grab him by the collar and drag him back to stand next to him. "First game and she's making out with a reporter doesn't deserve a ream."

"What?" Jordan stared at me, anger flaring in his eyes. "Emily, is this true? Was it that douche at the airport? I knew I shouldn't have-"  
>"Jordan Stall, don't you even dare imply that you decide what I do with my life. Don't you ever think you can tell me who I can and can not go out with. I can make my own decisions."<p>

"You've just gotten here. You don't know a thing about how we get swamped with everything because we're the Pens." Jordan looked at James and Kris. "Leave. I'm dealing with this."

"I'm not a child, Jordan," I said quietly. "I didn't want him to kiss me."

"Seems like you didn't really fight back, if what Nealer says is right. He has no reason to lie."

False. He had a total reason to lie, but I wasn't going to drop that bomb on Jordan quite yet. This was getting complicated. I was going to focus on hockey and hockey only for the next few weeks. I was sick of this drama.

"You know what? You're right. I'm just going to lay off all of this for right now. You, Nealer, Geno, everything. But I promised Toews and Kaner I'd talk to them tonight. I know you guys are going out. I'm not coming with you."

"Okay. But this doesn't get you off the hook, agreeing with me."

"Just...don't think you have to babysit me." I shifted uncomfortably. "Can I walk back?"

"I think that'll be fine. I'm sorry I overreacted." Jordan's eyes changed to apologetic and he gently touched my arm, but it sent shocks down it, unlike Caspar. His lust for me made me want to get a shower as soon as possible.

"You didn't overreact. I could have done something about it."

Jordan just nodded once and turned away from me, moving toward the bus.

I watched him until he disappeared into the bus and then headed back down the street that I had before walked with Caspar.

The city looking nice for the stretch of blocks I looked down until I saw our hotel. I cross the street with a small mass of people.

I felt my phone vibrate in my purse when I was about half-way across the street. I sighed and pulled it out, thinking it was Toews/Kane, or hopefully not Jordan, James, or Cas. I had stepped onto the sidewalk when I recognized the number.

_Do you want to talk about it?_ It was Eric! I hadn't talked to him in months. I knew what he was talking about, though, and I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I had to admit it was nice to kiss Cas, but not like that under those circumstances. We both knew it.

_No. How are you?_ I looked up and mumbled an apology as I almost bumped into a pregnant woman. My foot caught on the crack in the sidewalk and I stumbled for a moment. My sigh was drawn-out. I gritted my teeth. This was just getting frustrating. I hadn't even played a game with these guys yet and was already screwing everything up. James was going to be mad at me for a while. There was no getting over that. I regretted that it had to be him to catch me. I would have rathered it be Jordan. Kris was probably scarred for life, looking at his face. Matt and Duper would make a joke or something out of it, and Fleury would try to be the good friend to Jordan.

_Eric: Honestly, a little distressed. I don't think we'll make it to the playoffs and the reporters won't shut up about it._

_Me: I understand._

My iPhone told me I had another message from another number.

_Geno: I on you side._

_Me: How did you get my number?_

_Geno: All guys have it. Flower took on plane from Staalsy's phone._

I laughed. Typical, practical Marc-Andre Fleury.

_Me:I'm not surprised. Thanks._

_Eric: How are you doing? I only heard you won tonight. You're playing tomorrow?_

_Me: Tomorrow. Yes. I'm amped._

_Eric: Of course._

_Geno: Them out of minutes, with you: Cooke, Duper, Park, Johnny, Jeffers, TK. With Jordan: Sid, Flower, Asham, Michalek, Dan (__), Nisky, Nealer. Kris no take sides. Too scared._

_Me: So it's war?_

_Geno: No. Take sides, who right, who wrong. You right. Jordan no own you._

_Me: Thanks._

_Me: They're taking sides on the issue._

_Eric: That's not good._

_Me: No, it's not._

_Eric: Only as long as it doesn't interfere with what goes on on the ice. I have to go. Levi and Parker managed to wake up at the same time and Tanya's not sleeping right. Have a good rest of the night/morning._

_Me: Thanks. You too._

I looked up from my phone other than the glances to make sure I didn't run into anyone. The hotel was just across the street and half a block away.

_Geno: In hotel. Leaving to go to bar. You come?_

_Me: No. I don't want to mess up the rest of the night. I promised Kaner and Toews I'd talk to them on Skype._

_Geno: Them, too? You in trouble._

_Me: Jordan knows about them._

_Geno: He still pissed._

_Me: I know. Have a good time, Geno, and wish the rest of the crew that, too._

_Geno: Yep. Bye._

_Me: Bye._

I turned off my phone just as I crossed the street. The lights of the car park were bright against the growing darkness of the city. The sliding doors opened and I passed a group of my teammates. They stared at me, but I refused to made direct eye contact with any of them. This was going to be a rough time for all of us.

I took the elevator up to the third floor and stepped out of it when the doors opened. My footsteps were quiet in the hallway as to not wake anyone. I quickly unlocked my door and slid into my room.

I immediately stripped and pulled my pajamas out of my suitcase. I pulled out my laptop and put the chord in the nearest plug. I flipped it open and logged on. I ran a hand through my hair and clicked on the skype icon. I turned my phone back on and asked for his address.

As soon as Jonny/Kaner replied, I typed it in and made the call.

Both of them sat there. Kaner's arms were wrapped around Jonny's neck in a flirty way and he had a stupid grin on his face. Jonny's eyes looked bigger and darker than ever as his smirk played on his face. I felt my pulse flutter at how handsome he looked, but then frowed slightly to make up for it. I was screwing up way too much tonight.

"Hey, Emily. You look nice." Jonny's face didn't change, but Kaner hopped off him and scrutinized me.

"She's in her pajamas."

"So? Can't a woman look nice in pajamas?"

"Kaner," I said, a smile flickering on my lips. "I'd expect you to be...less than entirely clothed."

"I'm not wearing any socks." A grin spread across his face and I saw traces of red in his teeth. He looked like he might have been eating Jell-O.

I laughed. "Close enough."

"So. What's up?"

"Well..." I sighed. I might as well tell them. My face fell with the memory. The boys looked at each other, and then back to me, concerned looks on the their faces.

"Emily," said Jonny slowly, "What happened?"

"Uh...don't kill me."

"We won't. Not possible," smiled Jonny.

"Liar. We totally can. You forget my telekinetic power," said Pat, standing and placing his fists on his hips and raising his chest.

Jonny rolled his eyes. I bit my lip nervously.

"So...you know Caspar?"

"That guy you were ignoring?" Jonny leaned forward and rested his head on his chin.

I told them what had happened, but Kaner was the one who was flinching terribly. Jonny licked his lips apprehensively, as if he really didn't want to tell me what he thought.

"Please. Tell me what you think."

"You could have done better," he said. "I wouldn't trust you too much after that. I mean, you just made out with a guy you just met."

"Yeah. About that."

Kaner's eyes widened. "Did you make out with Geno recently?" His look turned mischievous almost instantly

"No. You remember the first game? My first game?"

"Yeah. Of course," they said.

"Well, Jordan invited me over to his house because Eric said that he was going to apologise for beating me up, and when it was all said and done, he had me pressed against my car and he kissed me. Not, like, made out, but it was still a kiss."

"So that was how it all happened. And it is Jordan." Pat looked triumphant.

"Yeah. It's Jordan. And it's Nealer, too, who caught me tonight. Him and Kris. Those two were my best friends next to, like, Flower and Jordan, and they are all on Jordan's side about being mad at me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I really fucked up."

"Yeah. You really did." Pat ran a hand through his hair and fidgeted with something on the desk. Tazer's lips were pursed in annoyance.

"I have to agree with him. I mean, apologising can only do so much. He's...he's crazy about you, I think, and I think you really hurt them. What did you mean by 'It's Nealer, too?'"

"I think he has a crush on me."

"Jesus, Emily, why don't you just make out with the whole league?" Kaner wrinkled his nose. "I heard you did with this guy." He pointed at the blushing Toews. "Way back at New Years. Never been the same since."

"Shut up, Kaner." He looked down at the desk where his computer was sitting. Pat raised an eyebrow.

"Mm. Must not have been good." He winked at me and placed a supportive hand on his teammate's back. Jonny looked back at me again.

"Was what it was," he commented. I nodded in agreement. Our relationship was nice, but it wasn't really anything special.

Pat blew air through his mouth and it ticked his hair.

"So everyone went to a bar?"

"Yep."

"I heard there are some good ones around there. Nice girls, too." Kaner supplied a promiscuous wink and I frowned at him.

"I hope he doesn't spite me."

"Thats kind of hypocritical, isn't it? I mean, shouldn't you expect it?"

"I guess I should, but..." I fell silent I couldn't really justify myself, and I was too tired to, now, anyway. "And yeah, I am a hypocrite."

Jonny's eyes went wide all of a sudden and he nudged Kaner. "Holy..."

"Oh my..." Pat looked at me in horror. He swallowed thickly. "Tazer, link her the...thing."

"Yeah, OK," he said. I heard some clicking and something popped up on the messenger. I clicked on it and almost fell out of my chair. There was Jordan, grinding and his tongue lodged in some blonde's throat. She had large breasts and her hands were delicately wrapped around his neck. I wondered how she could bend like that. Jordan was looking straight into the camera. His hands were on her breasts.

I gulped thickly.

"OK," I said.

"OK?" The boys looked at me as if I had an extra arm. "Emily, he's-"

"He's angry. He wants me to cause a scene. I'm going to play dumb." I sighed, gritting my teeth. The picture disgusted me. I closed out of it and returned my gaze to the two Blackhawks.

"You're just going to..."  
>"Unless you want to get even and actually stay with Caspar," said Jonny. Patrick's eyes lit up. I didn't miss it, and I looked at him. He whispered something in Jonny's ear.<p>

Tazer's eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. "No. She'd never go for that," he mumbled.

"I'd never go for what?" I asked. I really hoped Pat wasn't thinking what I was thinking. It was brilliant, but it would kill Jonny.

"Kaner thinks you should date." Jonny bit his lip and his eyes looked huge now through the screen. His cheeks were lit up with a blush that made me feel uncomfortable. "He thinks we should date. Just to make him mad."

"You two won't see each other for a few days, so you can get used to the idea. Only when he talks to you about it, Emily, do you tell him."

"Then he'd get more mad."

"And then you tell him you really don't like Tazer, that you were holding out for him, but he took too long."

"You want me to use him? I don't want to do that." I snuck a peek at the Captain and he looked relieved. I smile tugged at my lip. "We'll stop at Sal's after the game, OK? Then we'll decide what to do." Sal's was a bar I was informed we went to most often after the games.

"Won't Jordan think that's weird?"

"No. He probably won't notice."

"Don't underestimate him, Emily," said Jonny, "He knows more than you think."

"What do you mean?"

"He knows about James. He knows about me and Seguin and Caspar and exactly what you felt about them. What you felt about me. He told me."

"I didn't say anything bad about you, Jonny. You were great. He wouldn't know how I felt."

"He's really good at reading people, but everyone expects him to just be kind of there." He paused for breath, "I told him about..." Jonny's face contorted. "I told him about how I felt about you."

Pat's fingers flew over his eyes and his head sunk to his chest. I made a face and Tazer looked at his best friend. "I didn't tell you that I told him?"

"No. Or else you wouldn't have dug yourself so far into this hole. I've heard some stupid stuff come out of your mouth, but seriously?"

Jonathan looked pained. "I have to."

"No, you don't," I said. "I don't want to know how you feel. If it's going to make you suffer, I don't want to hear about it," I told him gently.

"Okay," he said. I glanced up at the time on my computer. The time read 1:03. I felt the haze of fatigue fall over me.

"I think I'm going to head off to bed, now. Early start tomorrow. The guys should be coming in soon." I yawned to emphasize my point. The two boys nodded and waved.

"We'll see you Tuesday," they said.

"Good night," said Kaner.

"Have a good sleep," he said. "Sweet dreams." He looked far away with that smile on his face. I logged off and closed my lap top. Sure enough, I heard shuffling in the hallway.

I snuggled down under the covers and turned out the light. I closed my eyes and began to drift off.

Just as I was on the brink of sleep, I heard a knock on my door. The hall had been silent for a while, and I wondered if I was just imagining things. The knock repeated itself, so I kicked my legs out and glanced at the clock. It read 1:32. I padded over to the door and peeked through the little hole.

I unlocked the door and opened it just enough so that he could come in.

I half-turned, not looking at the blonde behind me. "Jonny told me about what you know." I looked at him, now, and his teeth were clenched together. He scratched his nose and just looked at me.

"I'm sorry." His voice was a little rough and I imagined that maybe the blonde girl he was with had done something to him. Maybe they'd shared something.

"I am, too." I flinched at my own words that came after such a thought. "He showed me the picture, too. Of you and that girl."

"I know." He stepped toward me and turned my shoulders so that I was facing him right on.

"You seem to know a lot, Jordan," I said ruefully. "Do you know everything about me?"

"No. I don't want to. But I want to know you. You're confusing me." He held my chin between his forefinger and thumb. "I couldn't bring myself to have sex with her. I wanted to. I wanted to make you feel my pain. My body wanted it, too. But I knew it wouldn't be as good." He was staring deeply into my eyes, but I wouldn't let myself get lost in him, his eyes, his scent, the closeness of his body.

His hair felt like feathers wrapped around my fingers. Wet, alcohol-tasting lips were brought against my dry, cracked ones from tears that were about to be shed. I didn't care why either of us did it. Maybe it was the hands on my back or the feeling of his clothes or his scent that filled my lungs as I breathed through my nose, but I knew I didn't care. He was here. We had done things that made us ashamed and words weren't going to cut it. Even this kiss was just a waiting signal.

Jordan broke away from me. "I can show you better, Emily. This isn't about kissing and making up."

"We hurt each other," I said. "I understand. We'll get over it. We'll make it right at some point."

Jordan's lips brushed mine once more. "That was for the promise," he said. "We can't go on with jealousy. It'll tear us apart." He paused for a moment and his chest rose against mine, lightly crushing my breasts. Most of the ounces in my body wanted more of him, wanted him in an animalistic way, but we couldn't. It wouldn't be fair.

"Good night, Jordan. Have a good sleep."

He reached out for my hand. "You too." He squeezed it and walked out of the room. "Sweet dreams."

The door clicked quietly shut behind him. I recalled the last person who had said that to me. My heart faltered.

I pulled out my phone and turned it on, instantly scrolling to Jonny's number.

_Everything's OK._ I texted.

_I know, _ he replied.


	14. Chapter 14

Hello, everyone! I'd like to start this chapter off saying that there are currently two more that I have been a major slacker on, but they will be up momentarily. Since Jordan got traded to Carolina, the story kind of got killed and, well, I won't spoil things for you. Also, with the lockout, I won't be upgrading probably until hockey comes back because I have nothing to write about, no drama on the ice to fuel my creative juices. So I'm hoping that you'll follow me elsewhere (such as DeviantArt, sunlightsmarrow). I've started a nice little WW2 fic, but since I suck at keeping things together, that's a little delayed since my discovery of Google Sketch Up. Anyway, if you're bored and want to read more of my stuff, head over there.

Oh! And I'm also not sure if you want this to continue or not. The last chapter could serve as a nice ending point for the story in general, even if it is weak. I'm also a major fan of commissions (free, of course) *wink wink*.

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><p>"Oh, my God!"<p>

Flower practically kicked down the door, startling me from my sleep. He took a running leap onto my bed, casting me flying into the air. He was grinning widely. He kept his knees tucked under him, and he was gesturing wildly through my slowly-clearing stupor.

"You did it! You did it! It's Christmas! Come on! It's time to get up and head off to kick the Cap's asses!"

"Huh? What?" I ran my hand through my hair as Marc bounced off the bed. It was still dark out, but that meant nothing. We were supposed to catch a 6 AM flight, and it was currently 4:45. I only had fifteen minutes to get ready.

"You two kissed last night," he said, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me a little bit. "We should be dancing and partying with fairies and shit!"

"Are you high?" I gave him a confused look as I grabbed my clothes.

He cackled. "No! Hurry up, princess. We're going to be late."

"Does the entire floor know?" I crossed my arms.

"Yep. But Jordy doesn't, which is funny because it was plain as day with the look on his face." He bounced gleefully on the balls of his feet.

"Get out. I'm getting changed. Don't tell him." I shoved him out into the hallway, concern on my face. Flower just cackled and pranced out of the room.

I got the good sense to actually lock the door this time and I stepped into the bathroom, holding my clothes against my chest. I grabbed a quick shower and dried off, pulling my hair up into a quick bun at the base of my neck. I clasped on my bra and pulled on my panties, then a pair of torn jeans and a black tee shirt that said "Unleash Hell" on it with Brooks Orpik heavily checking Alex Ovechkin. Over that I had a black Carolina hoodie, just to mess with people. I pulled on my black chucks and haphazardly threw my clothes into my suitcase.

I picked my phone up off the nightstand and threw it into my bag. I shouldered said bag and headed out the door, doing a quick scan to make sure I didn't miss anything. I let the door fall closed and I headed down the hallway.

Cooke and Dupuis came out of their room right in front of me, dragging their bags in tow. I stopped short, nearly tripping over them.

"Quite a show I heard you had last night," said Cooke carefully. Duper looked at him like he was about to walk into a dragon's den.

"Huge mistake," I said. "Jordan and I are working on making it better."

"Oh, trust us," interjected Duper, "We know." He wiggled his eyebrows and offered me a smile. I chuckled at him.

We walked out of the hotel together and met up with Dustin and Ashy. They both looked at me with caution, unsure if they were supposed to say anything about me and Caspar. They hadn't really met him before, but they didn't need to. All five of us knew that what I did was wrong.

We loaded onto the bus and waited patiently for the rest of the team to arrive. Within five minutes, we were ready to go. The bus pulled out of the parking lot and we headed toward the airport.

When we landed in Washington at JFK International, I was roused of my sleep by Tanger, who was standing over me, gently calling me to daylight. I yawned, stretched, and slowly stood up. He waited for me to pick up my carry-on, and then he led the way out of the airplane and onto the tarmac.

We waited for a few moments for the bus to arrive. I checked my phone and found no new messages. A general sort of conversation popped up among the guys. I didn't get involved. Instead, I stood still in a sleep-dazed world.

I slowly began to pull out of it. I didn't bother listening in to the conversation that was going on around me, so I decided to check out the surroundings.

A sort of mist was surrounding us. The tarmac looked sort of wet, as if it had been raining the night before or during the plane ride. It wasn't soaked, as if in a heavy storm, but still damp nonetheless. The airport itself was situated in front of me and looked fairly busy for the hour. I looked to my right and found a large parking lot which seemed about three fourths of the way full.

My eyes roved back to closer things. I focused on Kris, who was standing not too far from me. He was wearing a black shirt and torn jeans. His hair clung to his shoulders and was a little wet, probably from the shower he must have taken right before we left.

He glanced over at me, but then turned his head to focus. His mouth twitched and he looked down at my shoes. I frowned, unhappy with how he was acting. I realized that he must have still been traumatized by last night. I swallowed and head over toward him, uncomfortable with the sound of my shoes hitting the tarmac. It sounded deafening even over the drabbles that were going on around me.

"Are you going to apologize?" His voice cut through he air and straight to my ears. I flinched with his tone. "You don't apologize to me."

"I already apologized to him." I spoke quietly, not daring to draw attention to myself, but already failing because of Kris's heated voice. I averted my eyes, but he ducked his head, trying to catch me once more.

"But you do want me to apologize to you," I said, noticing the pain in his eyes. It was obvious. "I'm sorry, Kris. I hate that you had to see that. I hate that I did it."

He was silent and I wasn't sure if I wanted him to say anything. We stood there in an awkward silence.

I heard a step behind me and found Jordan standing there, his suitcase in hand. He took mine from me and turned to face the newly arriving bus. The tires hissed on the wet ground and the brakes squeaked as it came to a stop. The doors opened silently and Jordan was the first to board the bus after handing the bags to a man who would load them under the vehicle. He offered me a hand to help me up, and I took it. His grasp was firm and warm as he pulled me up from the bit of mud that was deposited by the tire.

I hopped up onto the step and looked down at my shoes. They were clean, but a little wet. I had to admit I was confused by his actions. He had said that we wouldn't forgive each other so quickly, but it seemed as if we were on a fast track.

The bus took us across town to the Verizon Center. I recalled that our hockey gear had been taken as soon as we landed to the arena, where it was prepared for us to use.

We filed into the locker room and each found our respective lockers. Mine was situated between Dustin and James's. Jordan's was across the room beside Fleury who was sitting beside the door, as was customary for him.

I pulled my practice jersey, pads, and Under Armor from their hooks and headed toward the shower stalls. I quickly stripped and put my uniform on. I pulled the jersey over my head. It had my name and a 55 on the back. I gathered my clothes in my arms and moved toward the full-length mirror to examine myself. I pulled two hairbands from my wrist and did a quick braid job.

As I looked more at my reflection, more and more excitement coursed through my veins. My look was the kind of thing I'd been striving for (almost) seven years. Now, here I was ready to practice with a team that I'd followed since I came home from the hospital twenty-two years ago.

I walked out into the rest of the locker room. Everyone was busy putting their things on and only a few looked up to watch me sit down. I sighed deeply, trying to release my nervous energy. I was ready to take this head on. I wanted to succeed tonight. I wanted to be a force on the ice, just like my first game with Carolina. I knew who'd be watching and cheering for me.

I bent down to pull my skates on my feet. My fingers did the familiar task of lacing them up just tight enough. I drew my stick, helmet, and gloves from my stall and put them in their respective places on my body. I patted down my helmet and stood, tapping my stick on the floor. I shifted my weight energetically. Nisky looked up from where he was sitting, which was close to the door we entered from, and gazed at me, checking out the air I was changing with my nervous energy. He found it in himself to smile at me. Maybe he remembered his first time playing.

Matt gently tucked his hair into his helmet and walked toward me. He wore a weary smile on his face. We headed out to the ice together.

In the hallway, Matt began to speak, his voice soft and easy to listen to. "I know you've heard this from all of the guys. It's just...I know what it's like for you, to feel like you have to prove yourself. I just didn't want James getting all worked up about this. He's an emotional guy and sometimes he really has to work at hiding it, but last night just sent him off. I'm going to apologize because I know he still really likes you. You knew he likes you, right? 'Cause he'll kill me if you didn't and I just spouted off."

We had reached the end of the hallway and Matt held open the door that led to the ice. I skated out and around for a quick lap. Matt was right behind me.

"Yeah, I knew," I said. "Everyone knows I'm sorry."

Matt just grunted as we stopped in front of Coach Bylsma. He gave me a slightly disapproving glance, then returned to his clipboard for a few moments before mumbling something about stretching.

The team had joined us on the ice and had formed a circle and were stretching themselves in their own way. I moved up to Geno and Kris and began to stretch. I joined them, easing into a groin stretch. I took a deep breath, feeling my pads expand with my chest. I switched sides, feeling the lack of pull on the one side, and waited for the same result. I leaned forward then, stretching my butt.

I continued until I considered myself completely stretched. As I rose, Jordan skated over to me, a fond smile on his face.

"You ready to bring this?" His voice was low and intimidating for an average person, but I was used to it to a certain degree.

"Bring it," I replied, smiling at him. He rested our foreheads together for a moment, just touching together, and then he pulled away.

I followed him, skating down the left side. He started on a sprinting drill, dashing up to the other side of the ice and then popping the puck into the empty net. I after he had turned and began skating back, I followed him and did the same, pinking the puck on the crossbar and then in.

I turned and dodged a speeding Dustin Jeffrey, and then skated over to Jordan, who had stopped and was breathing heavily.

"You okay?" I asked, tapping his shoulder. "You need to sit this one out?"

"Hey!" Came a high pitched voice. We both looked up to about center ice where Sid was sitting flat on his ass. "That wasn't-Coach!"

"You deserved it, Sid. Be more gentle next time, Nealer." I looked up to James, who was skating back up to his captain, laughing. He helped him up and then looked at me, a smile dancing in his eyes. His brows inched together, not deciding if he should be doing this after what he had witnessed.

"I should tell you something," said Jordan quietly. "I've been thinking. It's getting close to the end of the season..."

I turned to face him, standing in front closer to the middle of the ice.

"Yeah, and?" He wasn't the kind to speak like this. A chill churned the bottom of my stomach.

"I should tell you that I helped orchestrate your trade here."

"You what?"

"I put in a word to Ray. I figured I'd be staying here for a while and you deserved some place for you to get your-"

"What did you just say? Are you leaving?"

"Nothing's set in stone yet."

"Unbelievable," I hissed. He couldn't do this. He had taken me away from my first family and now he was leaving! I thought we had had something. I thought we were at least going to date for a while.

"So I'm just a crush?" I accused. "I can't speak to you right now."

I skated away from him and pursued the morning skate with as much vigor as possible.

Practice ended and I was quick to leave the arena. I boarded the bus that would take us to our hotel and whipped out my phone as I waited for the rest of the team to join us.

I texted Jonny, iwe need to talk. NOW./i

iYou're lucky it's my day off. I rarely get any of those./i

iDid you know Jordan's going to be leaving and that he brought me to Pittsburgh?

The second part, yes. The first...what?

I can't fucking believe it! I thought he was interested.

He told me he was! I'm really sorry, Emily. Did he say where he was going?

No. Hey. I gotta go. Bus is full.

OK. I'll try to talk to him.

Thanks.

Any time./i

I sighed and leaned back in the seat. Matt Cooke sat down beside me. "You know," he said, "This is too much drama for a team. We need to sort things out."

"You heard?"

"Darling, I know everything. And by that, I do mean everything. There is no tighter group of guys here, and they're splitting apart like atoms in a reactor. This is serious."

"I know," I sighed.

"Can I talk to you in private once we get to the hotel? I want the honest to God truth."

"Yeah. I think that'd be best for everyone."

We sat in silence for the rest of the way. I stared out the window, watching the city go by. The mood around the entire bus was rather quiet. Everyone was thinking about what they needed to do for the night and a success.

We pulled up the the three and a half star hotel within a few minutes and we all got out and headed in en-mass. We received our room assignments and took the elevators up.

Matt followed me into my room and shut the door firmly behind him. We sat down on the bed that was not occupied by my bags.

"Let's hear it. The honest truth. I promise I won't interrupt."

"You remember my first game. Jordan and I got in a fight. Eric was pissed and had Jordan come to apologize and had brought the entire team with him. That's when most of you met me for real. Then, he took me to his place and we had pizza and watched the game. He felt guilty and I told him that it came with being a hockey player. He thought because I was a girl I got special privileges. That made me mad, but I didn't really let him know. He took me back to the Center and I had forgotten my bags. He had a key and he let me in, and then I get my stuff and threw it in the back of my car. Then, he kissed me.

"I headed back to Raleigh. When New Years came around, we played the Blackhawks and Jonny Toews came over and kissed me when the ball dropped. I wasn't 100% sober, but I'm not making excuses. I think he may still like me. There's a sort of reverence in his eyes when he talks to me. We've been chatting ever since, and he talks to Jordan a lot, too.

"A few months after that, I briefly dated Tyler Seguin, but that relationship was going nowhere, and we broke up. I was then traded to Pittsburgh, apparently because of Jordan dropping a word to Mr. Shero. I was sad to leave Eric and my friends, but happy because I always wanted to play for the Pens. Jordan and I went out on a few dates, sometimes with a group, and he seemed to get possessive when I would hang out with other guys. That annoyed me and I let him know. He got huffy after that, but still would flirt and be sweet a bunch, too.

"Then came this thing with Caspar. He felt really possessive during that and I got really mad at him. I didn't really care about him anymore because he was being an ass from me hanging out with Caspar and then Geno accidentally kissed me and James barged into the bathroom to figure out what the heck was going on.

"After that was the game and Caspar and I really just talked throughout. We left after the game was over and on the elevator ride down, he started making out with me. We headed out into the parking lot and it was there that James and Kris found us and the Jordan walked in and found out. James was actually the most angry out of the three. Geno texted me as I walked back about the division between the team and Eric also asked what had happened. Then I talked about all that had just gone down with Jonny and Pat. They were not happy, but told me that Jordan would get over it. Jordan came in and said that we would fix things and he kissed me goodnight.

"This morning, everyone seemed to be a little less uptight about it. We headed here and Jordan dropped the bomb that he was going to be leaving and that he had brought me here. I told him I couldn't talk to him right then, and we haven't since. James also gave me this strange look after he laid Sidney on his ass. I wasn't quite sure what that was about."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Matt nodded and stared down into his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, finding it better to let my story hang in silence, I assumed. I watched him think and he said nothing for a little while. I sighed and stood, opening my suitcase to throw the dress I had brought as an after-party thing on a hanger and put it in the wardrobe.

"Do you know," he started, "how much we care about you?"

"A lot, I think."

"A lot. We don't want to see you hurt, but you see, I've been with these guys for years and I know them. I can tell when they're in love and when they're not sure what the hell they feel. I can tell you there is a competition on who's going to date you and right now it seems as if Jordan's winning. But Jordan knows something that I don't have a right nor does anyone else on this team have a right of telling you. Everyone who's in the competition knows it."

"Dating me is going to destroy this team, isn't it?" That had to be what it was. "Jordan realizes his mistake and has to move away to protect his team. Is that it?"

Matt just sat there silently. "I was hoping you wouldn't figure it out."

"Of course I'd figure it out," I cried defensively.

"You're crying on so many shoulders. Biologically, you're screwing everyone over. I'm not trying to be enemies with you, Emily. I like you a lot. But this can't go on. I can work with the guys, but you have to pull some of your own weight here. This is my team and this is your team and this is Pittsburgh's team. I'm not going to let it fall apart. Ray's even having some doubts and is thinking about putting you up at the end of the season. There are already rumors about on how you're screwing with the entirety of hockey and that it was a terrible decision to let you in the league in the first place. I'd suggest you shape up."

"This isn't my fault!"

"Then whose is it? You have to be accountable. This is just like hockey. You have to be accountable and fix what you screw up." Matt stood up. "I'll be down the hall in 327 if you need anything. Have a nice afternoon."

Matt exited the room and I sunk down on my bed. He was right. It was all my fault and the team iwas/i falling apart because of me. I had started out so excited to pioneer the sport, but all I was doing was ruining it, and I was ruining the team I loved. I had to let Jordan and James and everyone go. I had to distance myself from everyone until this all calmed down. I knew I couldn't stop Jordan from leaving because of me. I understood where he was coming from on that, but I could stop the rest of the team from imploding before my eyes. In the most polite way possible, Matt was telling me to stop slutting around, and I was going to listen, starting tonight. I was going to make a name for myself and no one was going to stop me.


	15. Chapter 15

The evening came slowly. I grabbed a quick snack of yogurt and granola and then headed back onto the bus. I was the first one there and as I took my place, Duper and Matt filed on, followed by Dustin, James, and Nisky. Zbynek looked at me fondly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of me, radiant in my excitement.

TK and Ben Lovejoy sat down next to me grinning widely.

"Gonna fight Ovechkin?"  
>"Don't doubt it," I replied, grinning. "I'm gonna kick his ass."<p>

Tyler snorted. "He's hard to beat."

"I'm a girl. He'll take it easy. He can finally have a respectable cat fight."

"Ooh," said Ben. "What are you implying?" He grinned playfully at me. The bus was now loaded and lurched as it started forward.

"I'm implying exactly what you think I'm implying," I said, resisting the urge to wink at him.

My phone buzzed and let me know that I had received two texts. The ID said they were from Jonny and Pat. iGood luck!/i they both said. I grinned and replied my thanks.

"Hot text?" said Tyler.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I've given up those," I replied.

"So I've heard."

I smacked his shoulder for that.

"If you're going to do that, you better lift some weights before gametime."

"I didn't even hit that hard," I replied.

We arrived at the Center and everyone filed from the bus. Some people were already there and they watched us enter from the parking lot across the street. Some of them yelled some things, but I was too excited to really listen.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I walked into the dressing room. I had already changed into my sports bra at the hotel, so I took off my shirt and pulled on my undershirt, pads, and jersey. I adjusted everything to my liking and relaxed for a few minutes before standing up with my undershorts, pads, and hockey shorts. I moved to the showers and took the farthest back stall. Some of my teammates were taking pre-game showers. I heard Cookie's off-key singing of "Like a Rollin' Stone" and I laughed to myself. Despite the drama, I loved this team, and if I was honest, I was sad to see Jordan leave. He was important to me.

I returned to the waiting room and sat down in my stall. I strapped on my shin guards and pulled my socks over them, and then I pulled my skates on.

I grabbed my stick and twirled it around three times and rocked back and forth on my skates.

"Don't break anything," said Duper grinning.

"We don't want hurt," said Geno grinning like a little boy at me as he strapped on his skates. He pulled his shirt over his head, his muscles rippling as he did so. He yawned and stretched.

Everyone seemed to gravitate their eyes to the door at Flower's "Shh!" The room was silent and Marc looked at me and despite himself, grinned. "He's coming for you, Wonder Woman."

"Huh?" I didn't know what he was talking about. Was Ovechkin wandering the halls looking for a pre-game beat down? Did Dan have a serious look on his fa-

Oh.

Okay.

My breathing became erratic as one of the best players in the history of hockey came around the corner. Those dark greenish-blue eyes focused on me (ime!/i) and he smiled at me. My eyes became bigger than a puck as he stood in the doorway. We stared at each other for a minute before he stepped forward. My mouth fell open as he extended his hand to me.

"Emily LaRue," he said, grinning as he took my hand and covered it with the other. His hands were gentle and a little rough.

"M-Mr. Lemieux." I blushed and giggled. I felt embarrassed, but it wasn't every day that you shook a hockey legend's hand.

"Not too nervous about tonight?" He asked, letting my hands go and then looking around the room.

"No, sir," we said.

"Well," he said smiling more and looking at me specifically. "I hope you all have a wonderful game tonight. It's a great day for hockey."

I smiled at him and the rest of the room cheered. Mario Lemieux walked out of the room and I stared at the door frame.

"Please don't say you're never washing that hand again," quipped Sid. I full out laughed.

"I-uh-d-heh." I was not capable of forming a sentence at that point.

"Oh, she just had a fanuerism," said Cooke, slapping me on the back. "Wait for her ovaries to-"

"Hey!" snapped James from the bathroom defensively. His tone was startling. All eyes moved to him as he fluffed his hair in the mirror. "You were worse," he quipped quickly, saving his tone.

Matt chuckled. "True," he said. "I've been a fan of his for...ever. I guess I shouldn't be the one to talk. Now, Sid..."

"Yeah. I know he stayed with him. So lucky."

"Eh," the captain said, shrugging. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Yeah, it was," said Michalek. "You just never made anything of it."

"I suppose you could say that."

"Modest mouse, over there," said Asham.

"Hey," said Dan, walking into the dressing room, "Let's go, boys, and Emily." He smiled at me and tapped his clipboard. The Penguins let out a battle whoop and all stood, heading en-mass to the ice.

"Oh, my God!" I yelled as I skated out to Rise Against's "Re-Education Through Labor." I grinned and took a lap around our half of the ice. My eyes were bright as I looked at all of the people sitting in their seats. They were rowdy, but not like the Pittsburgh fans when I played with Carolina. They were booing, but I didn't care. I grinned at each one of them and moved down to stretch.

My muscles pulling felt so good and I felt my ribs expand with my excited breathing. I skated around our half of the ice a few more times and finally picked up a puck dished out by Cookie. I bobbled it on my stick and then flicked it to Fleury. He jumped down and made the save, smiling at me. I tapped my stick on the ice for him and skated over to James, who was standing and looking on at the warmups.

"You okay?" I nudged his shoulder. He looked at me, almost startled, and smiled. It didn't reach his eyes, though, but I dismissed it, waiting for his answer.

"Yeah. Fine." His voice told differently.

"James..."

"Not now," he murmured, pushing off from the wall and away from me. Tyler looked at the two of us with raised eyebrows.

"Everything okay with you two?"

"I don't know. I just got the cold shoulder." Tyler and I headed toward the center of the ice and we warmed up together doing some passing drills and playing a bit of keep away.

The buzzer rang and we all filed into the locker room. We sat down in our respective stalls and waited for the lineup. Not surprisingly, Geno, James, and Chris Kunitz were the first line with Tanger and Paul Martin as our D-men. Flower was in goal. I was to sub with Joe Vitale every so often, so I'd be playing with Asham and Craig Adams on the fourth line.

We got back in line to file out and another song was playing that I didn't recognize. We started to head out and I found myself between Matt Cooke and Kris Letang. Kris's hands were on me and he jostled me around a bit before we really got moving. I turned around and smacked him on the helmet.

"Oh! I'm concussed!" Kris's hand few up to his forehead melodramatically. He face of fake pain was quickly changed to teasing and he grinned at me. "Line's moving," he gestured, and he tapped my arm.

I took a deep breath and walked out onto the ice. "Are you ready?" He asked. I shoved him toward his line and I went to the bench with the rest of the guys who weren't starting.

A young boy sang the national anthem very well and I found myself actually singing along this time. I was swaying next to Jordan and he was humming along with the boy. I looked up at him and he looked at me with reassuring eyes. I couldn't bring myself to smile at him and we sat down at the end of the song.

"Alright, Geno," said Dan in his coaching voice, "Get us a good start here."

Geno did, winning the faceoff. He retained possession of the puck and began heading down the right side of the ice toward Washington's end. He was going fast and James and Kunitz flanked him as he was swarmed with the blue jerseys. He shifted the puck toward Kuny and he went around the back of the net. He held the puck there and Ovechkin checked him into the boards, earning him a loud cheer from the crowd. I grimaced and fidgeted in my seat.

Mike Green picked up the puck and passed it to Ovie as they crossed the Cap's blue line. Tanger was skating backwards and his stick waved out in front of the captain. The puck was passed to Backstrom and he took a rather weak shot at net. Fleury deflected it and Nealer picked it up, only to be checked by John Carlson. Matt Hendricks picked up the puck and once again took a shot, but it was hard for Fleury to deflect, so he covered it, earning him a whistle and a stoppage in play.

We tapped our sticks on the floor of the bench and made a line change. Matt, Duper, and Sid headed out to the ice with Sid taking a faceoff against Ovechkin in the Pens end. Ovie won but was hit by Martin and Sid took the puck and rushed down the far side. At the center line he passed to Cooke who came up with the shot. That bounced off Vokoun's pads and Duper took the rebound, trying to jam it in from point blank range.

Vokoun sat on top of the puck and play stopped once again.

The rest of the period went on and by the time the buzzer sounded, we were scoreless. I eyed the Caps from our bench and got some interesting stares in return. The most prominent was from the captain himself. He smirked at me and waved a little. I waved at him and we headed to our respective locker rooms.

"Alright, guys," said Coach, "We need to keep going on our pace. Keep ahead of them. Always stay ahead of the play. Keep thinking forward. We're doing some good things. Keep up with the shots on goal. Try to go high on those shots. Let's throw more at them this period. Fourth line be on your toes." He looked directly at me. "We're going to get you out there this period."

"Yes sir," we murmured.

"Let's get them," he said, smacking his paper against his hand.

Everyone took a deep breath. I scratched my nose and looked over to Paul Martin, whose stall was next to mine. "You did well out there," I said, patting him on the back. He gave me a tired smile and looked down at the floor. He had been shaken by a hard hit he had received about half-way through the period.

"Are you ready? Looks like you're going to play soon."

"I'm more than ready," I said, grinning wildly at him.

"Don't do anything..."

I just smiled at him.

We got back on the ice soon and within minutes of the faceoff, I was on. My skates touched the ice and I was off after the action. I grinned as I skated past a Cap (I didn't pay attention whom) and I dug out the puck on their end. I flicked it over to Asham who headed up to the blue line and bobbled the puck there for a few seconds before getting it out to Niskanen. He passed it over to me but the puck jumped over my stick and to the boards.

"Em, look out!"

iBang!/i Ovechkin had just plowed into me. Why he was on against the Pens' fourth line I didn't know, but as he took the puck from me, I heard him say something. "Welcome to the league, cocksucker."

I turned and skated after him and shoved him, laughing. "Better watch out, douche." I took the puck from him at center and skated back to the circles. I took a shot and missed by about four inches.

My face hit the ice and I found Alex skating away from me. I looked toward my teammates on the ice and they glanced at me apprehensively. Asham was staring down Ovechkin and Craig Adams was busy trying to get the puck. I stood up quickly and moved back toward the action.

I felt someone hit the back of my head. "Get back in the kitchen, bitch," came that voice. I wheeled around and shot Number Eight a glare.

"I will fight you," I said, coming up against him and shoving him into the boards as the puck broke free.

"Shall we, or does Daddy Dan not want his girl broken up?"

"We'll have to see, now, won't we?" I threw my stick away and removed my gloves quickly. The whistle sounded and the volume level of the area skyrocketed. I was ready for this, and slowly my rival removed his gear.

He lunged forward and grabbed my jersey, pulling me forward in the process. I ducked under his arm and, though twisting myself, took my hand off his right side and landed a glancing blow on his jaw. I twisted my neck around to look at him and he was still grinning. "You hit like a girl."

"You would know."

I hit him again, this time more square. He let go of me and began to skate away. My teammates took me by the shoulders, but it was too late.

"Get back here!" I called, skating the few feet that separated us and shoving him down from behind. I fell ungracefully on him and my hand came in hard contact with his face. He reached up with a right hook and got me in the ear, but by now the officials had hauled us up and separated us.

They called our penalties: coincidental majors, game misconduct (for me), and Ovie with a minor for instigating. In other words, I couldn't play anymore this period and into next. Coach would not be happy with me.

As I picked up my things, Adams, Asham, and Michalek were staring at me from the bench. Nisky was staring at the ice, his eyes wide in surprise. Jordan looked as if he would kill me and James was staring at Dan, who was writing furiously on his clipboard. Tony Granato, the assistant coach, followed me back to the locker room, where I was escorted by one of the staff.

"What happened, LaRue?" I sat down heavily and stripped off my jersey, throwing it, frustrated, into my stall, my helmet and gloves were soon to follow. I heard a groan from the crowd above and figured we had just scored a goal. I held my head in my hands.

"He called me a..." I looked up at his demanding face. "Should I put it nicely?"

"What did he call you?"

I told him quietly, even though we were the only people in the room. I was ashamed of myself. "I'm sorry. I should have controlled myself."

"You're right. What you did was disgraceful, even if you did clearly win the fight. I know you're an emotional player, but you can't be picking fights like this."

"I wasn't trying to pick a fight-"

"Yes you were. You thought you had to prove yourself amid all these guys. It didn't work, Emily."

I sighed and crossed my arms like a child. "The period's half-way over. I have to head back out, but you just...get your head in gear, okay?"

I nodded, frowning angrily.

I looked up at the screen that displayed the game via Root. It showed me landing a terribly ungraceful punch on Oveckin's face.

"That was a hard one by LaRue," said the announcer. "I'd honestly expect a nice fine from that."

"Talk about holding her own, though. But I don't think someone like LaRue should be doing that so early in her career. She's got huge potential and should focus on making plays."

"But welcome to the NHL, Emily LaRue. She looked really mad. I wonder what happened."

I snickered. I'd never tell them, of course, but the idea of telling people what a sexist ass Ovechkin was was humorous. I was angry with him and I felt I deserved to be. I wouldn't put up with that kind of crap from other players, just like the rest of the team.

No one said anything during the intermission except for Coach, who was telling the team to keep pushing, keep going at the speed. We needed to keep the pressure and we were holding onto the puck too much.

I wasn't allowed back out due to the penalty, so while everyone filed out and I got a particularly dirty look from James, no less, I sat there, watching them all leave. My eyes returned to the television screen above the doorway and I watched my team skate out once mroe.

The Pens were winning 3-1. There were about five minutes left in the game and things were looking very good.

Jordan got the puck and headed down the ice. He was checked, flattened, actually, and the puck was stripped from him. He got up, shaking himself off, and headed back down the ice, following whoever had the puck.

Shot, score. The Caps had closed the gap to 3-2. He looked at my teammates on the ice and they tapped each other encouragingly. We were still winning, but the insurance goal was a big deal.

The first line took the faceoff and they skated back to the bench. I watched James, Geno, and Chris skate up and down the ice, pulling all of their energy into it. This was something, had I been at home, that I would have been standing for. There was a minute thirty left in regulation and the Caps had pulled their goalie, sending their extra attacker on.

Almost as soon as that happened, they scored again. I brought my fists down on the bench and yelled in frustration. It wasn't professional and I needed to get used to such a thing, considering that I was playing for them now. We were tied.

Vokoun returned to his position and the clock ran out. We were going into overtime.

Once again, our first line headed out. James took the faceoff and won. He passed the puck to Kunitz who took it up to the Captials' end. He passed it to Geno and he took an amazing shot that just made it over the goal line! I cheered and stood up excitedly, waiting for my team to return.

Within minutes they were back and very excited about their win. I greeted the sweaty mass happily. They bumped into each other in congratulation and to get off their energy, and they slapped high fives around the room.

James looked at me from his stall after he sat down, a big grin on his face. He let his sweat-soaked hair fall over his eyes and he smiled at me. I swallowed and broke eye contact as I took off my skates. He had been so mad at me before. What right did he have to be smiley at me?

I took my stuff and headed to the back shower stall. Most of the guys had already gone by the time I got back there, and some were filing out onto the bus. I had already stripped off my clothes down to my undershirt and shorts. I turned on the water to try and drown out my thoughts. Matt's words echoed in my head, "So far, Jordan's winning." No one was winning. This was a lose-lose situation. I brought my fist down angrily on the cold blue tile of the wall. I was mad at myself and I was mad at hormones and I was mad at Alexander Ovechkin. I took a deep breath through my nose and groaned in frustration. I felt as if I was letting everyone down. I was being immature and unprofessional.

No more. I knew hockey was about having fun and pleasing the fans, but my behavior was that of a girl at prom night. I needed to keep my temper in check. I needed to pull off that stoic facade that plagued the locker room when any reporters were nearby. I had had enough of this crap.

I shut off the water and heard silence. Great. I was probably the last one and they'd be waiting for me, no doubt preparing jabs. I pulled my regular black lace bra and panties on and flicked a towel over my shoulder to absorb the moisture from my hair.

I took my other clothes in my hand and walked out to the large circle. It was entirely empty and I crossed it to my stall and sat down.

When I looked up, I almost screamed. Instead, I let out a little cry and flicked the towel over my body. James sat there in his underwear and was in mid-reach from something behind him when he heard my exclamation. He turned around and when he saw my bare shoulders and legs he turned a bright red color. We didn't say anything; we just stared at each other for what seemed like hours.

Our eyes were locked together. I had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but this was different. This was more intimate in the smelly, sweaty locker heat in his eyes did not escape me as he slowly turned to face me full on. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a seduction or an invitation to relax.

I lowered my towel, exposing what little cleavage I had and my abdomen. His eyes moved over my face, but not downward, and I could tell it was a struggle for him. My fingers curled around the wood of the bench. James reached for his pants. Since the reporters were gone, he pulled on dark jeans that managed to hug his legs just enough for his muscles to be clearly defined. He pulled them on and stood, doing the button and pulling up his fly. He held his shirt in his hand and walked over to me.

"You played great," he said, his long-fingered hand resting gently on my shoulder, his fingers itching to pull at my bra strap. He leaned forward and his breath was on my face. "And you gave Ovechkin what he deserved."

The door slammed and James jumped away as if he were dodging a check. His chest heaved with the surprised breathing of someone who was caught red-handed. We looked to the door for the intruder.

Geno dashed into the room and when he saw us, his eyes went big and he moved to his stall where his phone sat innocently. He ran a hand through his hair and he was blushing redder than James.

"I sorry," he mumbled. Something that did not sound like English came out, as well, and James and I stared from him to each other. My heart pounded in my chest and I fumbled for at least a shirt to pull on.

Evgeni hustled out of the locker room and the door slammed shut once again.

"I'll see you out there?" His voice was stiff and he stood upright as he pulled his shirt over his body. His sea-colored eyes finally took prisoner my form and his lips turned up in a faint smile. His look turned to tenderness and he turned without a word and headed out toward the bus.


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry, everyone. This is it for a while.

* * *

><p>Carmen greeted me when I stepped in the house. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my forehead. "I saw you!" She crushed me closer to her and I had to shove her away due to the overpowering smell of her perfume and lack of oxygen.<p>

I stood in front of her, panting through a smile.

"Sweetie, you took terrible."

"Happens." I grinned and hugged her again.

"Emmy!" My mom ran out and on her heels was my father. They both attacked me with hugs. "I'm so happy for you! I hope your fine wasn't too..."

"No. Four hundred."

"Oh, that's not bad." Mom smiled at me.

"Good for you giving that runt what for," said Dad, kissing me on the cheek. "I'm proud of you, sweetie."

"Thanks." I picked up my bag which had been knocked out of my hand when Carmen attacked me. "I'm going to head upstairs and unpack really quick. I'm hoping to be able to get a house soon, if that's okay. I get my paycheck at the end of the week."

"Hey Emily," said Carmen, pulling out her camera. "Smile!" She snapped the picture and showed me a crooked, bright-eyed grin. "Perfect! This is going on the blog."

"Blog?"

"Well, yeah. I'm out of a job for a bit, so I figured I'd get a blog going about you. You know, about you and hockey and Jordan." She winked and my face fell.

"About that..." I bit my lip and sat on the arm of the couch, thoughts of moving my stuff up to my room forgotten. "We're not..."

"Official?"

"No. I'm not going to date him. At all. Ever."

"Em, you've been single for over two years. Get on the ball." She smacked my thigh and I ignored the sting it sent up my leg.

"I really don't like him much. I guess he was just a crush." I shrugged dismissively.

"But the readers loved it!"

"Well," I said, standing up and heading toward the steps, "Tell them I like someone else, but I'm not telling who." I winked at her and trotted up the steps.

My room hadn't been touched since I left with Jordan only three days ago. It seemed like such a long time since then.

iHey, Emily. You back in Pitt?/i Caspar's number came up and I stared at it.

iWhat do you want? You got me in a lot of trouble./i I threw my phone on my bed for good measure, even though Cas didn't know that.

iJust thought I should let you know that things got out about me and a colleague getting out, and I got fired. It wasn't you. I applied for the Post Gazette./i

I groaned and replied back. iYou suck./i

There was no reply. For once, I decided not to tell anyone.

The next day, I drove to the ice rink. Practice went by quickly because everyone was trying to get their shots in order for the Mustache Boy competition.

Coach blew his whistle and we all lined up on the blue line, pucks on our sticks. Some of the guys headed out immediately. I glanced toward Jordan, who was looking at me. A grin flitted across his face and he started up to the goal. Fluery looked super-focused, but Jordan got the puck in, whooped, and went to the bench to watch with Sid, Geno, and Lovey.

As the rounds wore on, more and more people got onto the bench until it was me, Tanger, and James. I was surprised that they were the other two remaining.

James took a puck and glided back to behind the blue line. He took a run across the ice and missed wide of Flower. Kris took his puck and netted it at point blank range with a high shot. He grinned and skated over to the bench to join the rest of the team.

I took my puck around the center line and headed up toward the goal. I took a shot and Fleury made a loud pad save. James and I looked at each other and catcalls erupted from the bench. I blushed and shot them a glare. Cookie and TK clutched at their chests and fell back against the back wall, as if I had killed them.

James slapped me on the back when he skated up past me and tucked the puck neatly over Marc's shoulder. He raised his hands in the air and smiled. I narrowed my eyes, thinking that Fleury didn't try that hard to get the puck.

"What do I have to do if I lose?" I asked, bobbling the puck back and forth on my stick nervously.

The bench fell dead silent at my question and I rolled my eyes. I built momentum behind the puck and skated forward. I took a deep breath before doing a spin move and letting the puck loose off the backhand. I put 29 on his back and his hand waved around wildly. "That's it!" He screamed. He giggled like a three year old who was being tickled. "You know the deal, Real Deal."

Nealer ran his tongue over his lip, like he did so often. His eyes reflected the surroundings as he came closer and offered a small smile. My breath hitched and I skated backward from him. A hint of confusion came over his face and he chased me down the entire length of the ice. But he, being bigger and stronger than I, chased me down and slammed me against the boards. His legs straddled me and he clumsily undid the clasp that held my chin guard and mouthpiece in. He lifted my helmet off and tossed his own aside. His hair was unruly and matted down in places and I knew that he'd want to change that later.

"What are you doing," I breathed, and he flinched like I had hurt him as my breath tickled his neck. I could feel him breathing against me in a tempo that suggested his racing heart. I could feel my pulse in my ears and those sea-green eyes made contact with mine.

"You can't exactly grow a mustache, can you?"

"It's called leg hair. Get off me."

I shoved him away and skated to the bench. I picked up my discarded stick on the way.

"Hey!" The bench erupted in angry calls.

"I'm not shaving my legs for a month. Deal with it." The whole crew looked exasperated. Dan smirked to himself. I led the way out of the rink and toward the locker room where I showered and changed in record time. I didn't look at James at all, but I could feel him staring at me as if I had just shot a puck to his face.

I left in a hurry and headed back home.

iWe're going out after the game, right?/i Jonny's name was on my screen.

iYeah. It's a nice place, so bring a suit ;)/i

iWe're pros. That's how it works around here./i

iI have yet to wear a skirt./i

iTrue. Maybe we'll go shopping day-of and get you something nice./i

I smiled, thinking of those reverent bright eyes watching me strut out of a dressing room dramatically and twirling in a dress just enough for him to see ithat much/i of my thigh. I giggled at the blush that would come up his neck and the look in his eye that said maybe his idea wasn't such a good one.

iSounds like fun. When are you getting in?/i

iNever./i

"Pat, give me the damn phone back." Jonny glared at his teammate, who was quite maturely sticking his tongue out and tapping furiously on the smartphone's screen. "She knows it not you."

"So?" He pouted, sticking his red bottom lip out.

"I'll deck that if you don't put it away."

Pat snorted and stuffed the phone in his pocket. "Come on, Capitan." He jumped gracefully over the couch in Jonny's apartment and headed for the bedroom. "Come and get me."

Toews groaned and flipped his legs over the couch in pursuit of Kane. The man stood on his bed with Jonathan's phone dangling from his fingers.

Jonny dove straight for his legs and clipped him like a deer. The blonde fell on top of him and Jonny gasped with the weight of another human on him.

"Get off me, you lump of lard," He shoved him off and made a jump for the floor where his phone was laying upside down. "It better not be broken."

He grabbed the device tenderly and flipped it up so the screen faced him. It seemed to be perfectly intact.

iPat! Give it back to him now! This is important!/i

iIt's me,/i replied the captain.

iWhat do you think? Tight or twirly?/i

Jonny blushed and Pat pushed him over on the bed. Tazer recovered and flopped onto his stomach. "I'd love tight," he murmured, but texted, iTwirly suits you nicely./i

iI'll look online. I'm thinking Nordstrom's. If you find anything, text me./i

iOkay./i

Jonny threw his phone on the bed and rolled onto his back.

"Dude, I hate to see you so wrecked."

"Shut up, Kaner."

The Blackhawks got in around ten that morning. Their practice ended around noon and Carmen and I picked Jonny and Pat, and Patrick Sharp up at around twelve thirty.

"The media are jerks," said Sharpy as we met outside the arena. He winked at me and flashed me that grin of his. I smiled at shook his hand. Jonny made the introduction and I introduced Carmen.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're a lot prettier than in those photos when you're laying out Ovie, but I have to say that's pretty attractive." He squeezed my shoulder and we walked across the parking lot to my car. Carmen gave me a look and shook her head. She got in front and the three Blackhawks filled in the back.

"Why'd you bring Sharpy?" I whispered to Jonny when we were on the bridge heading north.

"He's one of the best dressed guys on the team. I figured he be of some help. Pat and I don't exactly have very much expertise."

"Hey," said Kaner from the back behind me. "Sharpy, slap him."

"Slap him yourself."

Pat failed at trying to smack Jonny upside the head and his fingers brushed Sharp's hair. "My taste is better than yours by, like, a thousand."

Tazer smirked and leaned back to rest his hand on Pat's knee. "You keep thinking that, Patrick."

We rode in a somewhat comfortable silence the rest of the way.

I pulled into the plaza and we hopped out and walked into the store en mass. Carmen and I led the way up to the second floor where the dresses were. We raided the racks and Carmen and I held five dresses each. The guys looked at us in shock. We paraded back to the dressing room and I kicked off my shoes and shoved them at Tazer, who stared at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I gave him a sly grin. "I'm a girl."

His eyes never broke mine and his mouth fell open. Kaner clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I know how it is, Tazer, This is nothing. You should see my sisters."

Jonny was still speechless. I shrugged and took the dresses from Carmen. "I'll be back. Don't hide anywhere."

I went into the changing stall and pulled my top and jeans off. I pulled on a black dress with long lace sleeves. I did a twirl in the mirror and looked at myself. The dress didn't look bad, so I opened the door to show everyone.

Sharp slid back in his chair and cocked his head to the side like a little Scottish terrier. He pulled his mouth into a line. Jonny still had that stupefied look on his face and when his eyes me mine, I rolled them over to Pat.

"Woah," he said. I looked down at myself. Nothing was showing. My breasts, albeit not large, were covered with smooth satin.

"Eh," said Sharpy passively. "It's not the best."

Jonny swallowed and nodded. Apparently, he wasn't capable of speaking anymore.

"I agree," I said, looking at myself in the all-around mirror. "Okay. I'll be back."

I went back into the dressing room and pulled on what I considered my personal favorite. It was an emerald colored dress that swirled around my legs and crossed at the chest and then inch and a half strap. It went just down to my knee. I slipped it on an grinned at my reflection.

I tore the door open and stepped out where they could see me. I twirled around and looked at Carmen. "I know we picked eight more, but this is perfect."

"You look stunning," said Tazer, his pupils blown and his lips red from all of the nervous licking of them he did.

"I have to agree," said Sharp.

"Stunning's an understatement," said Kaner.

"Foxy," said Carmen. "We'll take it!"

The Consol Energy Center was thumping. The fans were rowdy and I wasn't sure if the building was actually shaking or my pulse was pounding that hard. I skated down the ice with the puck and I passed it to Joe. He took the shot against Crawford and it bounced off him. In the moment, I took it and smacked it at around five feet to the net. The arena exploded.

The red light turned on and the tocsin sounded. My mouth fell open and my eyes widened. I let out a whoop and jumped into Joe's arms. Arron tugged on my braids. I looked at the Blackhawks around me and they all were trying to look angry. They were now losing 5-2 with about five minutes left in the third.

The clock ran out without much of anything else happening and we all skated out to center ice to shake hands. I hugged Pat and Jonny, and got at least a pat on the back from all of the other Blackhawks.

"Woo!" I raised a fist to the crowd and skated in a small circle in thanks for everyone coming out. They yelled back at me in return. Cookie and Duper came over to give me a hug.

"We're going out, right? This is kind of a big deal." Matt glanced behind me and then quickly returned his gaze. I turned to look where he looked, but there was a group of Penguins there, including, Geno, Sid, Kuny, Tanger, and James.

"Of course. We can't let these Hawks to their own defenses." I slapped his shoulder and led the way to the locker room.

I changed back into my dress after a shower and re-doing my hair to a side-braid and then pulled up to a bun. I pulled on my nude kitten heels and shouldered my duffle. Jordan stared at me as I did a final check and organization of my stall and applied a tinge of lip gloss.

He came up behind me and tried to wrap his arms around my waist, but I shoved his hands down and turned to face him. He was too close and I fell and landed hard on my bench. That earned me a look from Paul and Nisky, who were sitting next to me. Matt looked up at Jordan apprehensively and he took a small step back.

"I'm sorry," he said. His eyes were dead-looking as he looked over me. "You're looking nice for someone?"

"You could say that. You know I've not been professional, showing up in sweats."

"I think you look great," said Matt, bending over to tie his shoes. He looked at me and his hair fell over his eyes. He offered a crooked smile and sat back up again. When I looked at Jordan, he looked angry.

"Is this a problem?" I touched his shoulder a little more roughly than intended. He smirked.

"Not at all. Obviously, I'm not good enough for you."

"If you think that, it's probably true."

Paul's head snapped toward me. Duper, who was sitting next to Paul, muttered, "That's enough, you two."

"Please get away from me, Jordan."

He sighed and reluctantly went back to his stall and grabbed his stuff. He headed out of the locker room and toward the parking lot.

I sat on my bench and zone out for a bit, thinking about the game and things I could improve on. There was a good amount. First and foremost, I needed to get stronger. I was by far the weakest person on the team. My agility and speed would get a lot better if I was stronger. I also missed a lot of passes. I was good on hits and keeping the puck when I had it, though, and passing to my linemates was quite good, as well.

"Emily?"

James's head was ducked down and his eyes tried to find mine. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," I replied quietly. "I was just thinking."

"Where'd you get the dress," he asked as we walked toward the exit. He took my bag from me and shouldered it. "You look ravishing."

"I got it today with some of the 'Hawks. Who knew Sharpy was so good at fashion?" That earned me a smile. We crossed the parking lot to where our respective cars were parked. We loaded up and James called over mine to me.

"Do you want a ride?" His eyes were wide and hopeful like he was dying for me to say yes. I smiled at him and went to his passenger's side.

"You played great tonight," I said. He had netted a goal and two assists.

"Thanks. You too." He nudged my elbow as he made a turn to head towards Grant. He turned left onto Grant and headed town. Then, we went onto Penn and headed toward the Strip.

Just before we hit the market, he pulled into a parking lot and shut off the ignition. I recognized some of the cars as my teammates'. I could see the Allegheny from our parking spot. It was about fifty five degrees, a nice evening temperature for March. There was a slight breeze and it pushed James's hair forward.

"Shall we?"

His hand rested gently on the small of my back and he looked at me with that warmth that was there in the bathroom a few days ago. He kept a light grip on me and waited for my response.

"Let's go."

We began to cross the parking lot. He still held me like that and guided me around a puddle from when it rained.

He held the door for me and we entered the bar. We navigated the crowd and found Jordan, TK, Flower, and Lovey sitting together, mumbling a conversation over their drinks. I leaned up against the bar and James went to the right of me. His hand slipped from my back and his arms rested heavily on the bartop. Jordan glanced down from his friends to me as James ordered and asked me what I wanted.

To hands grabbed my waist and I shoved them away before whirling around. "Keep your-oh."

Jonathan Toews had his hands up in a surrendering position. "Sorry," he said, his accent getting lost in the loud room. He gave me his quirky smile and I had to giggle at him. "Are you even old enough?"

"I'm older than you," he said, winking.

"Get away from her, loser," slurred Jordan. He stood up and Jonny attempted to size him up, but Jordan had a good few inches on him.

"Jordan, it's just me."

"Yeah. And you hots for my-"

"So help me, Jordan Lee." James's voice was low, but audible.

"Yeah. Don't damage the guest," quipped Fleury, but anyone could tell he was serious. Jordan's upper lip curled up and he shoved Jonny back into a couple who were smoking lazily.

"That's enough!" I shoved Jordan back against the bar and held him by his shirt collar. "Damn it, Jordan, I've not even had one drink yet and I can see I'm more trouble here than I'm worth. I know you're leaving, and honestly, I don't give a fuck. You need to be the grown man you are. If you really wanted to protect me, you'd stay far away, for everyone's sake. We're not mature enough for each other.

"And Jonny? Just get out of here." I looked at him and shooed him away. "Please," I added when he looked like he had gotten a goal called off. He stepped back slowly and headed out the door. I let Jordan go and dusted my hands off. "I'm sorry, Jordan. I shouldn't have gone about it that way."

"Fucking whore, it was James all this time, wasn't it?"

"What? You're drunk." I deflated at his accusation. I didn't care about being called a whore anymore. I knew I wasn't.

"I don't even know what I saw in you. Fuck this. I'm out of here." His eyes were hard. He left his drink and stormed out of the place, slamming the door behind him.

I stared after him, my mouth agape with shame and sadness.

"Someone better call him a cab," said Ben. He looked around at the three of us and pulled out his phone and dialed.

I just stared at the bar for five minutes, my drink forgotten. When James touched my shoulder and asked me if I was okay, I pulled out my wallet dropped a twenty, thanked the bartender, and slid off the stood. I frowned and didn't look up as I made my way to the exit.

"Wait! Emily..."

"Stop," I murmured. I looked at James and he stood rooted to the spot. "Just...let me be."

"But I-"

I shook my head and ignored his outstretched hands.

The temperature seemed a lot colder outside. I turned quickly and headed to an alley. Pittsburgh was practically dead at night, anyway, and I leaned against the brick wall. I scratched my arm and picked at my cuticles until they bled.

A quiet gait made me look up and I found Kris approaching me.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling me into a hug. "What was going on in there?"

"Nothing. It was my fault."

"I have a hard time believing it this time," he murmured, his lips close to my temple. He let me go and looked me straight on. "What's going on with you two," asked he. His dark eyes burned into me, begging for truth.

"James-no." I paused and shoved him away. "You know what, Kris? I'm sick and tired of explaining everything to everyone. I know. I've been told a thousand times you want to help, you only want to make things better, but you know what? I fucked up. I fucked up so bad that I'm ripping this team apart and maybe I should just quit right now and everything can go back to normal."

"Fuck, Emily," said James, who had just come around the corner. "Tanger, would you excuse us?" Kris bowed out and James came up to me. He looked angry and showed it as he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. His grip burned as he twisted my skin. "Are you seriously that stupid? You don't even realize what it would do to the team if you quit, do you? You're going to be a ilegend/i no matter what you do. Okay? Is that enough for you?"

"What do you mean, the team? Hockey was the only thing I was ever good enough at for my mom and dad."

"That's bullshit. I know how much your parents love you. I know how much this team loves you. You just can't get over yourself enough to see what the hell is right in front of you. We're offering you the world and all you want is a little toddler from Thunder Bay to stop all over that aurora that shows every time you play. He's the one who's breaking you, and believe me, I'd kick his ass if I could, but we're a iteam/i. It's about fucking time we started acting like one."

"Jordan's on the team. He obviously doesn't love me."

"Why would you want him to? What's so special about him? Did he care? Did he hold you? Did he ever love you?"

I stared at him blankly. Those were all loaded questions. "Of course he cared, first off. I-he's kind. Gentle. He understood what it was like to be the one that had to succeed."

"And you think I don't?"

James ducked his head and pressed his lips to mine softly and gently. "I'd die if you quit," he said. "You're so much better than that. You're better than all of this."

I said nothing for a while; I just stared at him. He didn't try to smile. He didn't look angry or loving or anything. He just waited for me to do something.

"Take me back to my car, please," I said to him. As we walked to his, I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

We drove back to the parking lot. "Thanks," I murmured. "You're right."

His right hand stroked my jaw and led me into another kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He said it as if he wasn't certain.

"Of course," I replied, smiling.


End file.
